


Please Come In

by rachtay13



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Curses, Dark!Derek, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Post 3a, Verbal Abuse, mute!Stiles, vow of silence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:06:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachtay13/pseuds/rachtay13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knew Derek didn't have the best track record with women, but the latest in his terrible line of love interests was just so... normal.<br/>Something was definitely wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Janine

Stiles needed pizza more than he needed air. He ran into the grocery store, intending to stock up. He turned down the frozen isle, and skid to a halt when he saw Derek and a girl there, arms full of pizza and desserts. Leaving them alone never even crossed his mind.

“Yo, Derek, long time no see. Wow, doing some shopping?” Stiles smiled and turned to the girl, sizing her up. “Hi, are you another supposedly dead sister of Derek’s that suddenly appeared with no explanation?”

Derek rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Uh, no?” She turned to Derek, confused.

With another great sigh and an astounding amount of patience, Derek said, “Stiles, this is Janine. Janine, Stiles. And no, we can’t talk right now, we need to get home.”

Stiles ignored him, smiling at Janine. She was his height, with long dirty blonde hair and green eyes. Her smile curved up to the right, giving the impression that she knew something Stiles didn't.

“Janine! Nice to meet you, I’ve heard zero things about you, but I bet you’re a great person. Derek surrounds himself with awesome people, am I right?” Stiles winked at Derek. Derek tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling.

“So, you’re visiting or…?” Stiles probed.

Janine’s mouth fumbled in surprise and confusion before she said something Stiles never thought he’d hear.

“No, uh, I’m Derek’s fiancée.”

Stiles blinked. And then blinked again. He opened his mouth to say… something, but Derek beat him to it.

“We’re leaving.” He turned and Janine followed, glancing at Stiles over her shoulder. He stared open-mouthed at their backs and watched their complimenting forms walk away. By the time he processed the information, they had left the store.

.

A dozen texts later, Stiles found that no one knew about this ‘Janine’ character, how long Derek and she had been together, or where she had come from. Stiles was the only person who had met her, and Scott and Isaac hadn’t picked up her scent when they went running with Derek.

He knew that it was honestly none of his business, not his relationship, and he wasn’t Derek’s emotional guardian, but the relationship didn’t sit right with him. It felt odd. He went about his business, grabbing what he’d come to the store for, and tried to put it out of his mind until he could come up with a way to find more information.

.

“Hey pops. How’s it goin’?”

The Sheriff looked up from his paperwork, seemingly glad for a distraction.

“The usual. Wishing that things could get done without all the red tape. Or that I wouldn’t have to be the one pushing through it. Such is life,” he said with a sad smile, leaning back in his office chair. “What’s up?”

“Well,” Stiles began, unsure how to phrase it. “I have a friend.”

His dad raised his eyebrows. “Does someone need help?”

“In a sense? And maybe not. But possibly? Anyway,” he said when his dad began to look impatient, “I have a friend who has been suspiciously absent recently, and today I saw him. And he was with a girl, and I got really bad vibes from her.”

The Sheriff's look was one of exasperation.

“It’s weird okay? This guy doesn’t usually have a, uh, girl”- Stiles couldn’t bring himself to say fiancée- “and when he does they have all been bad news. Like, supernatural bad news if you catch my meaning. So, can we start digging up dirt on her, please? If she is bad, I wanna be prepared.”

“Who is it?”

“Her name’s Janine, but I don’t know her last name or where she’s from-”

“No, I mean your friend, who is your friend with the bad luck?”

“Oh, uh, Derek Hale.”

The Sheriff sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. “Give me her description and I’ll see what I can do. I doubt I’ll find anything though, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“Not a problem.” Stiles told him as much as he could remember from their brief encounter, and strolled out of the station feeling like he’d done a good deed.

.

Derek was pointedly not answering his texts. Or returning his calls. Stiles couldn’t even be sure Derek was reading his texts, which was really stupid honestly; what if something terrible happened and Stiles needed help? He’d probably respond to Scott, he thought glumly.

Wait. There’s an idea.

Stiles found his chance during lacrosse practice. He snuck into the locker rooms and found Scott’s phone. Now, what to type? What would Scott say? He’d be nice, not accusatory, but not particularly eloquent.

How about…

_hey, stiles told me about Janine. when are we gonna get to meet her? lydia suggested an engagement party this weekend. your place maybe?_

Stiles read over it again. It was to the point with a big dollop of presumptuous. Perfect. He hit send and waited.

And waited.

After about 10 minutes, he knew he needed to get back out to practice. The anguished plea to Coach that he had the ‘lava squirts’ worked at that moment (and made Coach cringe) but probably wouldn’t hold up for however long it’d take for Derek to answer.

He deleted the text out of the sent folder and hoped Scott wouldn’t be too confused if he got a random answer from Derek.

.

“Hey Stiles!” Scott grabbed him before he left the locker room after practice. Scott was clutching a towel around his waist and holding up his phone with a grin.

“We’re gonna get to meet Janine this weekend!”

“What?” Stiles snatched the phone out of Scott’s hand.

_Janine says she’d love to meet you all. Party at the loft on Saturday at 8. Bring food, you all eat like pigs._

“Holy shit, it worked,” Stiles said to himself.

“What?” Scott asked.

“Nothing, I just still can’t believe Derek has a fiancée. It’s so weird,” Stiles handed the phone back over.

“It’s not that weird. He’s older.”

“Not that much older. Come on, it’s weird that a guy who has never had a successful relationship is now suddenly engaged. We don’t know who this person is, much less where she came from or how they even know each other.” Stiles waved his hands around hoping that would get through to Scott.

“Well, we can find all that stuff out this weekend.” Scott shrugged and went back to his locker.

Stiles sighed and turned, walking out to his Jeep, looking forward to a long night of homework and frozen pizza, and absolutely no thoughts about broody werewolves and the stupid decisions they make.

.

Stiles was running late. He’d asked his dad to run a search again with his assistance to point out faces, but no one with the name Janine even came up in the system.

“Stiles, you shouldn’t worry about this right now. Go to the party, get to know her, ask questions, and relax. It may seem weird to you, but sometimes people just fall in love quickly. Cut the guy some slack, okay? He’s had a rough life.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Stiles left for the loft, fully intending to play it cool tonight. Keep to the sidelines. Observe. Lay low.

.

“Hey guys! What’s up!” Everyone greeted him as Stiles burst through the door with a couple bags of chips and a 2-liter of cola. He turned to close the door and the soda bottle slipped from his grasp, hitting the floor and promptly exploding everywhere, spraying foam and sugar water around in a five-foot radius.

Stiles squawked, shielding his face with a chip bag. “Oh my god, I’m sorry! Where-”

But Janine had already come to his rescue with a roll of paper towels. "It's okay, don't worry about it. This is the best thing about concrete floors. Easy clean up!" She smiled at him.

“No, no I can do that, it’s my fault,” Stiles insisted. He noted how comfortable she was offering assistance despite her attire. Janine was wearing a knee-length black dress, complete with black heels and short pearl necklace. “Here, take these, I’ll do this.”

She smiled and took the bags, handing him the paper towels. Scott came over and helped, tearing a long strip off the roll.

“Hey buddy,” Stiles said with a smile.

“Hey. I’m sad that exploded. All we have is water.” He lowered his voice, glancing at the group around the couch, “I was hoping Derek would have bought something- even cheap champagne would have been nice.”

Stiles snorted. “It’s not like you can get drunk,” he whispered back.

“Actually,” Scott moved closer to tear off another strip, “Lydia told me she knows a way to alter alcohol to make it more potent to weres. And I mean, if it’s not during a full moon and we’re in a safe location, it wouldn’t really be a big deal, right?”

Stiles shot him a sympathetic look. “Sorry bud. Maybe Derek doesn’t like to drink.”

“Yeah, I just thought since it’s a party…”

“Yeah, maybe not that kind of party.” Stiles smiled and gathered up the soaked globs of paper and went to throw them away. As he walked to the kitchen area, Stiles surreptitiously watched the group. Lydia and Allison were on the couch talking to Janine. She seemed to fit in with them. Beautiful, long hair, bright smile. Derek stood behind her, hand placed lightly on her shoulder, listening to Isaac.

With the mess cleaned up, he and Scott joined the others. Stiles grabbed a plate and filled it with the snacks laid out on the coffee table. He took a seat across from the couch, and resolved to observe. He occupied his mouth and hands with stuffing his face. Scott pulled up a chair beside him, also quietly observing the group in front of them. Lydia looked relaxed; smiling, lounging, not sitting straight up like she normally did in company. Allison had her hands hooked around her knee, but her body language was still open as she looked back and forth between Janine and Lydia. Stiles’ eyes flicked up to Isaac, the only one who looked uncomfortable.

He had his arms crossed, listening to Derek, and he didn’t look happy. They shared a long silent look. Isaac broke eye contact first, looking down and away, shuffling his feet and uncrossing his arms. Stiles snorted. Old habits die hard. Derek as a beta was still more Alpha than Isaac could bear. Derek looked down at the hand he had on Janine’s shoulder, thumb moving gently back and forth. Stiles watched, transfixed. The only time he’d seen such gentleness from Derek was with Cora. Even then he was a bit… brusque.

Derek’s gaze caught on Stiles’. Stiles instinctively froze. He felt like an intruder all of the sudden, as if he was privy to something private. He quickly looked down at his plate, refusing to acknowledge the invasion.

“So, no Kira?” he asked Scott.

“Oh, no, I mean, she’s not really friends with Derek, and uh…” Stiles followed Scott’s gaze to Allison.

“Right. Awkwardsauce. I get it.”

Stiles watched and ate and listened half-heartedly to the girls’ conversation, but when it was not revealing any new information about Janine (except that she loved Vampire Diaries and missed Gossip Girl) he couldn’t do the sidelines thing anymore. When they got to a natural stopping point, Stiles saw his chance.

“So! Janine!”

All eyes turned to him. It was a bit unnerving.

“Yeah, Stiles, right?” Janine asked with a smile.

“That’s me. So, maybe you already told this story, but I was wondering how you and Derek met?”

All heads swiveled toward Janine.

“We met at college actually.”

“College! Oh, in New York?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah, I mean, I was in college, Derek was just around. But, uh, our families knew of each other and when he came to town, we had a big get-together and we met for the first time.”

“You guys hit it off?” Lydia asked.

“Oh, no! Not at all. Actually, I think the best word would be indifferent. We were acquaintances but we never really sought each other out. We got along well, and we could always find something to talk about, but, I don’t know. I wasn’t really looking for a relationship at that point.”

“So, how did you guys finally get together?”

Janine smiled and looked up at Derek, touching his hand, which seemed permanently glued to her shoulder. “I think Derek should tell that story.”

Derek squirmed as all eyes fell on him.

“So, Derek, how did you two get together after all these years?” Isaac asked, slightly mocking.

Derek sighed, giving in.

“I found her on facebook, friended her, and we started talking. One of us mentioned seeing each other, and she flew out the next day.”

“Talk about a whirlwind romance,” Lydia said.

Janine smiled. “Sometimes you just know it’s right.” She smiled up at Derek and he returned it. Stiles stared at him, still feeling like something was off. Even though there wasn’t. He looked so genuine, so sincerely infatuated. Maybe that’s what was weird, that Derek was genuinely happy.

Oh, Stiles just made himself sad. He pushed the thought away and listened to the proposal story.

“There’s more to it than that though! Okay, so we were skyping, and he said that he had something really important he wanted to ask me but he wanted to do it in person. And I thought I knew, but I didn’t know, you know? So I was like, how about I come down this weekend? And he had this shocked face, but he got very serious and I could tell he was excited,” Janine smiled and looked down at her hands, “And so I booked the flight one way and as soon as I got off the plane I was so eager to see him that I ran out of the airport looking for him. But!" she stuck her first finger in the air, "I had already passed by him! I didn’t even notice!” Everyone laughed and Derek grinned. “He was back at the gate and he had a ring for me and he asked me right there.”

“Aww!” Allison held her face in her hands. “That’s so sweet!”

Derek was fighting a big grin. Stiles smiled, watching him struggle with the praise the girls lavished on him, calling him a ‘romantic’ and ‘big softy under that rough exterior.’

Stiles felt like this was all a stage play, like everyone was acting out a scene and Stiles didn’t have the script. It was all so disorienting. He watched Derek and Janine interact. Now he was sitting beside her, angled toward the group with his arm around her shoulders. They were just so… happy. So normal.

Ugh.

“So, Janine.”

Once again, everyone’s eyes went to Stiles and he realized he’d interrupted the conversation. Oh well.

“What do you do?”

Her eyebrows raised. “I’m an emissary.”

Now Stiles’ eyebrows raised. “An emissary. Like Deaton?” He asked, eyes sliding to Derek’s.

“Similar. She doesn’t have a pack,” Derek answered.

“How do you get into that sort of work; is it a family thing or an apprenticeship or…?” Stiles led.

“Kind of both? My great aunt is, well, was, and I took after her in capability, and I trained while I went to college. I never intended to do it full-time, so I’m a consultant.”

“A consulting emissary. Sounds like an awesome job. So do you do magic and stuff too, or do you just have a lot of knowledge?”

“Lay off, Stiles, this isn’t twenty questions,” Derek commanded.

“No, it’s fine,” Janine talked over him. “I do practice, yes, and I consider myself something of a polymath. Do you practice?”

“Me? Uh, no, no, I don’t. No.”

“Hmm.” Janine stared at him for a long moment, assessing. “I think you should. You’d be good at it.”

“Well, yeah, maybe…” He shook his head, flushing under the scrutiny. What was he going to ask her next? Before he could think of it, Lydia had steered the conversation to Latin. Stiles listened, eventually got up to get a drink and use the restroom, and by then things seemed to be winding down.

Everyone made their excuses and said their goodbyes, and Stiles still felt like this was unbelievably weird, but no one else said or did anything that indicated they felt the same.

“See you guys later. Congratulations again,” Stiles said as he walked toward the door at the back of the group.

“Bye, it was great meeting you all!” Janine called. A round of ‘you too’s and they were out the door. Stiles turned to shut it and saw Janine smile and lean into Derek for a kiss. It was long, and intimate and Stiles shouldn’t be watching this, but he was entranced by the way Derek cupped her jaw and moved his mouth against hers, with an intense fierceness, like he owned her. Stiles could feel his heart beating wildly and breath become shallow, and as soon as he realized what he was doing he hurriedly looked away and pulled the door shut as quietly as he could.

Shame and arousal pushed him down the stairs and followed him all the way home.


	2. locks be damned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else hate that episode (echo house)? I will never watch it again. Watching disturbing material is so much worse than reading it for me... 
> 
> Let's forget about it and enjoy some Stiles and Derek interaction, shall we?

To everyone’s surprise (except Stiles’), Janine didn’t last two weeks after the engagement party.

More surprisingly, Isaac was the one with the full scoop on the break up. He told the group at lunch what had happened the night before.

“We planned on going on a run, like we usually do on Thursdays. We check the perimeter, the old house, and then we just kinda run until we’re done. Anyway, he was supposed to meet me at nine o’clock.”

“Nine? Isn’t that late for a long run?” Stiles interjected.

“No. It helps me sleep.”

Chagrined, Stiles nodded for him to continue.

“But he didn’t show up. So I went over to his place, and I could hear her shouting from down the hall. And those are thick walls.”

“What were they saying?” Scott asked, enthralled.

“Well, I didn’t hear anything Derek said, only Janine, and she was shouting about how she should have known all along and how stupid and blind she was, and then she started in on Derek. She said some things that I think are racial slurs, but I’ve never heard them before, and she was sobbing. It sounded… really disgusting actually.”

Stiles frowned in sympathy. The sound of a girl crying was usually heartbreaking, and if not, then extremely unattractive.

“Then she kinda pulled herself together and asked Derek some questions, and I guess he gave her the silent treatment, because she just got louder and shouted, ‘why won’t you talk to me! I at least deserve that!’” Isaac imitated shrilly. “And then, I don’t know, she shouted some more and said she was leaving. It got quiet so I assumed she went to pack. I went back outside and waited until I saw her come out and get in a taxi. I gave it a few minutes and then went back up.”

Stiles glanced at his friends, all of them obviously submerged in the story. Allison looked devastated, Lydia wore a small frown, and Scott’s mouth was hanging open.

Isaac shrugged as if in apology. “Derek was just sitting at his desk, reading a book. He didn’t look upset at all. I tried to act like I didn’t hear, so I asked him if he still wanted to go on a run. And he did. So, we went on a run.”

“Wha-, wait, you didn’t ask him about Janine at all?”

Isaac shrugged. “It didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it or that it was a big deal. I didn’t want to make it into one.”

Stiles stared and shook his head in shocked disgust. God, the people he called friends. Couldn’t even rely on them to get the full story. Why were they so scared to ask a simple question?

Well, maybe it was because it’s Derek. One wrong word and you’d get slammed up against a wall…

“I can’t believe it. Over just like that,” Allison said, staring at the table.

“Well, they did seem rather hot and cold. Sometimes those heated romances fizzle out just as quickly as they begin,” Lydia offered.

“Yeah,” Allison said, pointedly not looking at anyone. Stiles could practically feel the awkward tension hanging in the air.

“Yeah, maybe he needs a slow-burn kind of thing,” Stiles said to cut the silence. Scott blinked at him, but Lydia picked up what he was laying down.

“Ooo, yeah. Who do we know that would make a good candidate? He only hangs out with teenagers and his creepy uncle,” she said with a tiny frown.

“Mm, I don’t know, you maybe,” Stiles said with feigned nonchalance.

“Me?” Lydia squeaked, amused. “Ha! No way. I have a healthy amount of appreciation for Derek’s abs, but that does not translate into appreciation for the rest of him. I don’t need another cocky, demanding, supernatural creature as a boyfriend.”

“Good,” Scott said. When he noticed everyone looking at him he added, “I mean, you deserve someone who is good to you. You don’t need another Jackson.” He frowned. “Not that I think Derek is anything like Jackson, but, yeah, you know what I mean.”

“Lydia’s love life aside, is no one interested at all in why Janine and Derek broke up?” Stiles asked the group.

Each gave a half-hearted shrug.

“People break up sometimes. There’s not always a great reason for it,” Scott said, “And sometimes there is, but it’s not really our business. Besides, it’s Derek. You really think he’s just gonna talk about it?”

“No, not really, it’s just… Okay, so I didn’t tell you guys this at the time, but I got really bad vibes from her. I don’t know if it’s because she was an emissary, or what, but I always felt really weird around her. I guess I’m worried, you know, for Derek’s sake. I don’t know, I can’t explain it.”

Lydia was staring at him with a little too much intensity, but he ignored that in favor of hearing Isaac’s plan. He offered to buy a couple pizzas and then they could all crash Derek’s loft that night under the guise of ‘pack bonding.’ When Janine failed to show up, one of them could ask about her and see what happened.

“That’s an awesome idea. I’ll bring my xbox. This is gonna be fun!” Scott said with bright smile.

Stiles couldn’t help but smile back.

.

The ruse of pack bonding was actually really… nice. Enjoyable. Stiles could even use the word fun. Derek welcomed them easily enough, and after most of the pizza was gone and a few rounds of Halo were under their belts, Derek had relaxed considerably. No one had brought up Janine, but Stiles was sure that would change soon.

Allison got up to get a drink, and Isaac asked her to bring him back one as well. When she returned, she handed a can of soda to him and flopped on the couch next to Derek. Looking at the television, she asked, “So, where’s Janine tonight?”

Stiles was really proud of his friends. None of them turned their heads to look or inhaled sharply or stiffened- they played it cool.

Derek cleared his throat. “Not sure.”

“Oh.” Allison turned to him then, with a slightly concerned look.

“Actually, we broke up.”

And oh, they were good. Lydia gasped in shock. Scott whipped his head around, mouth open. Allison covered her mouth, and Isaac said “What?”

“You guys broke up? What, why?” Stiles asked gently.

“Well… um, we had different views about our relationship,” Derek shrugged.

“Different views? Like, she wanted children and you didn’t? Or she wanted to be married and you didn’t?” Lydia asked, eyebrows quirked.

Derek glared. “We just weren’t… on the same page.”

“That’s enlightening,” Stiles said under his breath. Derek obviously heard; he shot Stiles a look.

“But I thought you guys were gonna get married,” Isaac said with honest-to-god tears in his eyes.

Derek looked stricken. “I, oh god. Uh, well, I wasn’t entirely honest about um, that.”

Stiles wanted to force him to say more, but he looked like he needed a moment to gather his thoughts.

With a long exhale, Derek leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and began to speak.

“I entered into a relationship with Janine under false pretenses.” Lydia gasped again. “I never intended to marry her. I did know her from New York, and I wasn’t really friends with her, that’s the truth. I was actually close with her brother. And when I left New York to come back here with Laura I gave him something. It was something that meant a lot to me, and now that Laura is gone too it means even more... Anyway, I saw something on facebook that reminded me of him so I searched for him. I found him, but it turns out he passed away last year.” Allison covered her mouth with both hands. “I was shocked, but after that I remembered that I’d given him this thing that could potentially be used against me if it fell into the wrong hands. I panicked.”  


Derek rubbed a hand over his face. “I had to get in contact with his family but his parents weren’t on facebook, and I could only find his sister. So I contacted her, and we talked. When I felt I could, I asked about what had happened to Dave’s belongings, and eventually found out that she had it. I mentioned that I had given it to him, and I wanted it back, and then… things got weird.

“She suggested that she could give it back to me in person. And I knew she was flirting so I went along with it. I didn’t bring it up again for a couple months, and then I asked if she wanted to mail it to me, and she suggested again to deliver it in person. So I said she should come down and visit. She refused. Said she had too much on her plate, blah blah, and anyway, every time I mentioned it, she’d find a way to turn me down.”

“So the only way you thought you could get her here was to propose marriage?” Stiles asked.

Derek only pressed his palms against his eyes. “It was really stupid. I see that now.”

“Wow. So, I guess she found out, then?” Scott asked.

“Yeah. She found out when I said I wanted to break up.”

They all sat in silence for a moment, absorbing. Allison reached out and patted Derek on the shoulder.

“Not to be insensitive or anything, but why did actually propose to her? Why not just hint at it?” Stiles asked.

Derek seemed to crumple more. “This makes me sound like such a jerk,” he said under his breath. “I thought that it’d be a more equal exchange. She gets the romantic proposal she wants, and I get what I want. And I figured it’d make her more likely to actually give it back to me.”

“Butter her up, I get that,” Stiles said.

“Wow, you are a douchebag,” Lydia said, with a hint of admiration.

Derek glared. “Yes, I see that now. It all seemed reasonable at the time.”

“So your plan was woo her and then lure her here under the impression that she would marry you, and you didn’t see how that would end badly?” Isaac asked.

“I thought things would end amicably,” Derek said, leaning back into a slouch, hands over his stomach.

No one asked how things really ended, they already knew. Stiles couldn’t stop himself from asking, “So, what did you get back? She gave it to you, right?”

“Yeah, I got it the day after she arrived.”

“What is it? It must be pretty intense for you to want it enough to construct a fake relationship.”

“It’s an amulet. My mother gave one to each of us. If ever we were in trouble, we could say a certain phrase and they would cause the others to go off. They have a vibrating sensation. I wanted Dave to know he could contact me, since I didn’t know where Laura and I would end up and we didn’t have phones. After Laura… I still had hers, but it never went off. Janine didn’t know what it was for, she didn’t have the phrase, so it was worthless to her, but still- she wouldn’t let me have it.”

“Does Cora have hers?” Stiles asked.

“No, she said she lost it in the fire.”

“This is weird,” Scott said. “I feel sad because I liked Janine, but I’m also glad because you’re not actually heartbroken. It’s weird.”

“Wait!” Stiles remembered something. “I totally saw you guys making out! How far did you take this thing?”

Derek clenched his jaw and looked away. “So what if I kissed her, Stiles? I knew you were watching, I knew you suspected something. You kept staring at her; I had to throw you off or you’d ruin everything. Besides, it’s not like I hated her. I liked her. Just not enough to get married.”

“Did you fuck her?” Stiles asked.

“Stiles!” Allison shouted. Lydia shook her head, muttering ‘oh my god,’ and Scott stared at Stiles, shocked. Isaac looked curious.

“Once or twice,” Derek said with a shrug.

“That’s a lie,” Isaac said, obviously not meaning to. Derek glared. “Oh, shit, sorry.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows and stared at the side of Derek’s head. He didn’t know why he cared at all really, but he wanted to know the truth. Was Derek the kind of person to sleep with a woman he was using? Or was he a gentleman? The lie could go either way- either he didn’t at all, or he did a lot.

“I’m sick of you all now. Go away. You have school tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Isaac said. Once he saw the look on Derek’s face, he back tracked. “But a good solid eight hours is healthy for everyone. Okay, let’s go.”

They packed up and left, and Derek didn’t meet Stiles’ eyes once.

.

The next week, they rarely talked about Derek but when they did, the girls spoke with a disapproving tone. Stiles couldn’t exactly defend Derek’s actions, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt he understood his motivations. After practice on Thursday, he went to the loft on a hunch.

“Derek?” Stiles called as he opened the loft door. It was unlocked.

Derek came down the spiral staircase. He was dressed in jeans, a blue v-neck and a scowl. “What do you want?”

“You didn’t sleep with Janine.”

Derek froze on the last step.

“Why would you want us to think you did? The only explanation I could come up with is that you wanted us to think you don’t have morals, but we already knew that from the entire story of your fake relationship. Pretending to have serious feelings is very morally wrong, so why wouldn’t that be bad enough as it is? Why add fake love-making to that?”

Derek sighed and walked forward, crossing his arms.

“So then I thought, ‘maybe he wants us to think he got some just because he can?’ but that doesn’t make any sense either; we don’t care who you have sex with as long as they aren’t out to kill us all,” Derek rolled his eyes, “so then I knew it’s because you didn’t want us to think you genuinely cared.”

Derek pursed his lips and stared.

“You wanted that amulet back because you were afraid. Yes, it’s also a family heirloom, but it could be used against you. My theory is that it has another use you didn’t tell us about. You said specifically that if you don’t know the phrase that it’d be useless, but you also said it could be dangerous in the wrong hands. If you have the only other matching amulet, then danger could come to you, but why would it? You’re no longer an Alpha. What could anyone want from you?”

“Are you almost done?”

“Getting there. What could someone want from you? Information? Power, position in a pack, to harm you for what you are? But if anyone threatened you, you’d have Scott and Isaac and Allison and me and even Lydia coming to your defense. Who knows, maybe even the twins.”

Derek shifted his weight and cracked his neck.

“What I’m saying is that you realized that if anything happened to that amulet which in turn harmed you, you would be endangering the pack. It wasn’t just about you. You cared about all of us, and you faked an entire relationship to keep us from harm. It’s brilliant, really.”

Derek stared at Stiles and breathed harshly through his nose.

“Any other deductions, Sherlock?” Derek asked curtly.

“Nah,” Stiles answered with a smile, “Just wanted to say we care about you too, buddy.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

He turned around and started back up the stairs.

“What? No hug? Come on, man, that deserved a hug!”

“Stay there, I’ll be right back,” he called over his shoulder.

When he came back he had a black velvet pouch in his right hand. He stopped in front of Stiles and set the pouch on the coffee table, opening it carefully. He pulled out a long leather cord and at the end was a thin clay circle with the shape of a crescent moon at the top. It was slightly larger than a quarter.

“This one’s mine. I carry Laura’s,” he said, holding it up in front of Stiles.

He reached out and examined the amulet, noting its dark pearlescence, and how amazingly smooth it was.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Here, put it on.”

“Uh-” But Derek was already slipping it over his head. “Why, what-”

“I wanna see if it still works.”

“Ah, yes, good idea.”

“I’m going into the other room, yell if you feel it vibrate.”

“Okie dokie. Will do.” Stiles watched Derek walk away, and held the amulet in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the raised moon. It really was beautiful.

He was staring at it when it began vibrating. It was strange- he could feel the vibration, like an intense buzzing beginning in his hand, trailing down his arm, across his back and into his chest- but he couldn’t see it vibrating. After a few seconds, he felt a strong pull towards the other room, like all the cells in his body were leaving without him.

“It’s doing it!” he shouted.

Derek came back in the room with a slight smile and his body settled back into itself.

“That is the weirdest sensation. It’s supposed to do that, right?” he asked Derek.

“It’s attention-getting. No matter where it is on your person you’ll always feel it if it goes off.”

“Wow. Really cool.” He moved to take it off but Derek stopped him, holding up his hand.

“No, keep it. You get into the most trouble out of any of us, it might help someday.”

Stiles stared. Derek wanted him to have it? Something his mother gave him? Something that he’d worked so hard to get back? He suddenly felt choked up. He cleared his throat and forced out a ‘yeah, sure, thanks man.’

“No problem.”

He coughed, trying to force out the lump in his throat, and looked at the amulet again.

“Who made these?”

“My mom got the actual clay pieces at a local farmer’s market. The enchantments she had put on later.”

“Cool.”

“The phrase to activate it is ‘Please come in.’”

“‘Please come in?’ Isn’t that a common phrase?”

Derek sighed. “My mom thought it was funny. Whenever anyone came to my door I would tell them to go away. And it doesn’t matter if you happen to say it off-hand, you have to be touching it to your skin somewhere and think and say the words with intent- the intent to contact the other amulets.”

“So, the phrase is different for each one then?”

Derek nodded once.

“Hmm. I wanna try it.” He held the amulet in his hand and wondered…

Derek startled, pulling his amulet out of his pocket. “I didn’t hear you say anything!”

Stiles smiled, amazed that it’d worked. “It’s all about intent! Your mom probably just gave you a phrase so you could focus your intent. You don’t necessarily need the words to put forth the same meaning.”

Derek looked astonished, and little sick.

“It’s not a big deal, I mean, I have a ‘spark’ anyway, right? So, yeah, it’s probably just easier for me specifically.”

“Right, yeah. Well, take good care of it. Keep it on you, alright?”

“Will do. I need to get home.” Stiles said with a smile. “Thanks, for this. It’s… really cool.”

Derek gave him a small smile and walked him to the door. As soon as Stiles crossed the threshold, he made a production of locking it loudly behind him. Stiles rolled his eyes.

He hadn’t mentioned to Derek that he’d also realized why Janine had stuck around for so long after Derek had the amulet back- he thought it might be too cruel to say aloud. Derek had led her on, sure, but he got _something_ out of that relationship, and for the few weeks she stayed with him at the loft, he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t _lonely._

As much as Derek put up a front, Stiles knew he was welcome there, locks be damned.


	3. Cursed

Stiles brushed the amulet back and forth across his lips as he read, trying to focus on the words and not the soft scent of Lydia’s perfume invading his senses. She sat beside him, doodling, waiting for him to finish this section. He pressed the amulet to his lips, pinching it between them as he used his hands to turn the page.

Stiles had taken to wearing the amulet around his neck every day. It wasn’t large or noticeable, so no one asked about it. It lent him a sense of control and safety that he’d not felt for over a year. During class he’d find himself rubbing his fingers over the smooth back and the raised crescent on the front, occasionally testing the texture against his lips. Despite his constant handling, it showed no wear, and it was always cool to the touch.

The drama with Derek had blown over while a new drama emerged concerning Allison and Isaac. Stiles hadn’t asked Scott how he felt, but he could tell he was confused. Isaac was totally betraying the bro code by moving in on Scott’s ex, but Scott was also moving on, if kissing Kira in the hall before class was any indicator. Stiles didn’t care one way or the other, all he cared about currently was making sure he passed all his classes.

His dad was cracking down on him this year. Now that he knew about the supernatural, he seemed to think that he could handle whatever big bad was plaguing them at any given time, and therefore Stiles needed to focus on school. Last year he had missed a few days here and there, and he most certainly had not passed with flying colors in every subject.

Hence the after school study sessions with Lydia.

They were helping, he had to admit, but he didn’t care for Lydia’s style of teaching. It was less teaching, more derision and exasperation at Stiles’ lack of knowledge. He was taking advanced courses, he wasn’t _dumb,_ but sitting next to Lydia getting a verbal beating every week was starting to wear on him. Christmas break would be a much needed reprieve.

He left their study session feeling worn and irritated. He got in his Jeep and began towards home.

Dusk slunk in, shadows growing darker in the trees as he whizzed by. On one of the long stretches of wooded highway, he came around a bend and saw something in the street. A man stood there, waving his arms, right in the middle of the lane. Stiles had no choice but to stop.

He rolled down his window, letting in cold damp air. The man, wearing a plaid button-down, smudged with dirt and skewed, had the most distressed expression on his face. He skittered around to the driver’s side and yanked open the door, shouting all the while.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but I need your help, can you help me?” He started moving toward the front of the Jeep and motioned for Stiles to follow him. The urgency in the man's voice made his heart race and adrenaline pumped through his bloodstream as he hurried to get out.

“What’s wrong, what happened?” he asked, following the man to the embankment.

“Come here, I’ll show you,” he said, motioning for Stiles to come closer. “Do you see that?”

Stiles peered into the woods where the man was pointing, but he couldn’t see whatever it was.

“I don’t-”

Pain sliced through his lower back.

He gasped and his mind blanked, shock numbing his awareness down to the epicenter of pain. He whirled around, hands fumbling for the source but his legs gave out, forcing him down on his knees, breathless. His vision blurred and he collapsed face-first to the ground, cut grass biting at his skin. The pain was so intense, he felt like he was dying. He gasped, taking shallow breaths, trying not to move. Distantly, he heard his Jeep’s engine fading away. He needed help.

Phone’s in the Jeep, he realized.

He tried to yell, but his lungs weren't cooperating. He could hardly eek out a whimper.

Headlights flashed by but none slowed. Why would they? He was flat on the ground, covered in shadow, no car... Who would find him here?

He wanted his dad. The pain was so deep, so sharp. He wished for a werewolf hand to hold. Where was Scott? Scott would make it better. But any werewolf would do, even Derek...

Stiles flinched, coming back to awareness.

Derek.

Slowly, his hands responded to his plea and found his amulet. He clutched it tightly and repeated the words over and over, muttering to himself to stay conscious as the cold seeped in and his blood leaked out.

_Please come, please come_.

 

 

 

.

In Stiles’ mind, the hospital was like a second home. A second, creepy home, where Death himself walked around in an open-backed nightie, staring into rooms until he was allowed in.

In other words, he hated it.

As soon as he was cleared to walk, he was up, walking too far, climbing staircases, visiting different wards so he could fight the boredom. And then he opened up his stitches and was forbidden from leaving his room for another day and a half.

“You’re only hurting yourself, ya know,” his dad said from the tiny guest chair in his room. “If you’d just let yourself heal you’d be out of here already.”

“Thanks, yes, pile on the guilt and self-loathing, thank you for that.”

“I just mean you need to relax. Take a breather. Don’t you get tired of being…”

“Manic?” Stiles supplied.

“I was going to say stimulated.”

“Meh.”

“Maybe intensely focused. You need to do yoga or something to get out all the energy. Adderall isn’t working, obviously.”

“Yeah, it takes the edge off, but I still get bored.”

“Boredom is a character flaw, not-”

“A state of being, yes, I know. God, I’m in the hospital, can we lay off the ‘make Stiles a better person’ routine for a while?”

"You need to cut it out with that tone." The Sheriff sighed. "And you know I didn’t mean it like that,” he said softly. “I just want this to be… less horrible for you, but I can’t help you if you don’t do what the doctor says.”

“I know.” Stiles laid back, staring at the ceiling.

“Anyway, Scott picked up your Jeep from the station and returned it home. It didn’t have any damage, and nothing was stolen, so I have a surprise for you.” He stood up and pulled something out of his pocket.

“Oh sweet baby Jesus, yes!” His dad handed him his phone and he turned it on, clutching it to his chest.

His dad laughed. “Thought you might want that.”

“Yes, thank you! This will help immensely. Thanks pops.”

“No problem. Now listen, you stay in the bed all night and into tomorrow and I’ll see if I can pull some strings and get you home before tomorrow night, okay?”

“Yes! Do that. I will do that so you can do the puppeteer act.” Stiles smiled up at him.

“I mean it, you need to rest. He almost got your kidney, kid, you could have died. This is serious.”

Stiles schooled his expression. “Yes. Very serious. As serious as a bleeding kidney.”

They held in their laughter for all of three seconds. Stiles winced as pain shot up his spine. His dad caught the expression.

“When’s your next dose?”

Stiles looked at the clock. “Another hour. The last half hour is always the worst.”

The Sheriff gave him a sympathetic look. “You can do it. I believe in you. You behave tonight so you can come home tomorrow. I’ve gotta get back to work. Apparently the girl they found near your attack did have wounds that matched the same knife you were stabbed with. Now we’re trying to figure out how the suspect knew the victim. She's still unconscious."

“Dang.” Stiles figured she was attacked by the same man, but the only thought he’d had since he’d been told about the other victim was ‘did he clean the blade between attacks?’

“I’m just glad you guys caught him.”

“Me too. I’m more glad that Derek found you.” He put his hand on Stiles’ shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Me too.”

.

He didn’t have many texts, as all his friends knew his phone was gone and had been by to see him anyway. But he did have one text from Scott that threw up alarm bells.

_hey when ur home call me. need to talk to you about derek._

Too many possibilities of what that conversation could hold swirled through his head, and he rubbed the amulet between his fingers. He tried to calm himself, but the worried thoughts wouldn’t leave his mind. He slept fitfully that night, wishing every time he woke that he was at home.

His dad came by around 10 the next morning to spring him. He was wheeled out and helped into the backseat of the cruiser with prescription strength pain killers, a string of antibiotics, and a few extra bandages. He’d been waiting for this for days now, but all Stiles could think about was his upcoming conversation with Scott.

His dad stopped on the way home to pick up comfort foods, and then Stiles found himself being fussed over by not only his dad, but Melissa as well.

“Do you have enough pillows? We need to make sure you have enough support so you don’t strain the-”

“Yes, I think five pillows is more than enough. And I have one for my legs, I’m good.”

“Okay, now on your meds, you can take one of these every three hours, but if you can wait longer you should. But don’t go more than five hours, they can take up to half an hour to kick in, so if you start to feel bad go ahead and take one. On your antibiotic-”

“They did actually explain all of this when we picked them up,” Stiles offered kindly.

“Of course,” Melissa smiled, “I just want to make sure.”

“Whenever I’m not here and she’s not working, she’ll be here, okay?” his dad explained.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that. I’m doing pretty well, I think,” Stiles said.

“You’d be surprised at all the things you’ll have trouble doing for a while,” Melissa said.

“You guys know I just got stabbed, I didn’t like, lose a limb or something, right?”

They just smiled down at him.

“Well, I’m gonna get back to work, I’ll be here tomorrow morning, okay?”

“‘Kay,” Stiles said, accepting Melissa’s light kiss to the forehead.

“You’re probably tired. You’ve got another two hours before your next pill, think you can sleep that long?” his dad asked.

“Oh yeah, definitely. Uh, can I ask Scott to come over? In like, two hours.”

“Sure,” his dad said, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Two hours. Only two hours. Go to sleep, Stiles,” he murmured to himself. He leaned back and drifted.

.

“Dude!”

“Hey man,” Stiles carefully adjusted to a more upright position and invited Scott to sit on the bed.

“You look terrible,” Scott said with a lopsided smile.

“Thanks buddy! You really know how to cheer a guy up,” he said smiling back. “So here’s the deal, I have about another half hour of coherent thought and then my painkiller kicks in, so I’m gonna need you to tell me whatever you need to about Derek pretty quickly.”

“Oh! Right, yeah. Huh, okay.” Scott stared at the floor and rubbed his hands together. “Um, so the day you got carjacked, right? Derek found you, called the ambulance, and tried to stop the bleeding and he basically saved your life.” Stiles flapped his hand around, communicating ‘ _get on with it_.’ “Anyway, after we all knew you were gonna be okay, Derek was still really jacked up on adrenaline or something. He was nervous and kept clenching his fists, so me and Isaac suggested we go on a run. Clear his head, get out the energy.

“We went to the preserve and we ran for a while and then he stopped. He kept shaking his head and pushing it between his hands. Isaac asked if he was okay, what was wrong and then Derek looked up and it was like he was a different person.

“He had this weird expression on his face, like angry but… what’s another word for evil?”

“Uh, malevolent? Menacing?”

“Yeah, menacing, like he was reading Isaac. And then he started talking. He started saying things about how Isaac deserved everything he ever got, and more, and, ugh, it makes me sick thinking about the things he said. Isaac just took it. He shrunk in on himself and stared at him. He didn’t say anything back- that was the worst part, he wasn’t even trying to defend himself.

“And I couldn’t take it anymore, I told him to shut up, and then he started in on me. He said how I’m an imposter; a privileged, whiny, selfish, pitiful excuse of an Alpha and that he couldn’t believe I had survived as long as I had with so little amount of grey matter.”

“Oh my god…” Stiles breathed. Stiles could tell from the practiced way he’d said it that Scott had repeated those words to himself, over and over.

“No matter what we said to him, he just kept going; he started in on Isaac again, and I kept diverting him back to me. By then we realized this wasn’t really him talking, it was almost like he couldn’t hear us. We got on either side of him and grabbed an arm and ran him back to his loft, but he was shouting the entire time. We thought maybe we could shut him in the bathroom, but as soon as we closed the door he started ripping out the sink and he broke the mirror. We left him alone for thirty seconds, tops!

“So we just stayed there with him. He was bleeding for a while before he healed, so there was blood all over the floor. He kept pacing, ranting, and shouting and he kept spreading the blood everywhere. It was so gross.

“At about 4 am he collapsed on the couch. We didn’t want to wake him up so we fell asleep too. We woke up two hours later and he looked shocked. Shocked and really scared. He kept apologizing, saying he didn’t mean any of it, and I tried to tell him it was okay, but he looked around and saw the blood and the broken stuff and…”

“What?”

“He went in the bathroom and threw up.”

“Ugh.”

“Yeah. So... that’s not the worst part.”

“Oh no.”

“It’s happened every night since. We can’t leave him alone, and he insults everyone around him. He actually gets tired more quickly if he breaks some stuff, so we’ve started picking up really heavy furniture from the salvage yard and bringing it in before it starts up again.”

“That’s sick. It only happens at night?”

“Yeah, and not the same time either. One night it didn’t even start until 1am. We thought we were gonna get lucky, but we ended up pulling an all-nighter.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. We’re taking turns. Lydia’s been doing research, and Deaton has never heard of something like this before. He said it seems like an exchange? Like something is feeding it? But he didn’t know.”

“That’s so crazy. My god. It makes my stab wound seem like nothing.”

“I’d prefer a stab wound over whatever he has, for sure.”

“How do you stand it?” Stiles asked.

“It’s hard. It’s like he knows every bad thing you’ve ever told yourself, every terrible secret you’ve been keeping and ignoring. He knows your thoughts. It’s... scary.”

“Damn,” Stiles repeated. “Please tell me you don’t let Isaac stay with him alone?”

“No, either me or Allison has been there with him. Oh, and Peter showed up the other day. He told us we could leave. Derek was still in one piece the next day so I guess it went okay.”

“Sorry I can’t help right now, man. Maybe in like, three days? I’ll take that shift, whenever that is. What’s today? I don’t even know anymore.”

“No, you shouldn’t, he throws things. You have to be able to defend yourself. You probably shouldn’t take any shifts. Ever.”

“Hey! I can defend myself. I’m excellent with a bat.”

“I won’t let you.” Scott’s eyes started glowing.

“Okay, fine! I don’t need the Alpha command, good god.”

“Sorry.” Scott looked away.

“I just… it’s weird isn’t it? That it happened the same night? Why would it do that? What was so special about that night? I got attacked by a human, it wasn’t even a supernatural thing. If he’s being possessed-”

“Deaton doesn’t think it’s possession.”

“Okay, then what else? A spell? A curse? It’s a pretty damn vindictive curse.” Scott stared blankly at him. “Uh, revenge? Someone really wanted to hurt him, _and_ whoever Derek associates with. It’s something an ex-lover would come up with…”

Scott and Stiles stared at each other in horror.

“No…” Scott said.

“Maybe…” Stiles insisted.

“But… Janine was so nice! There’s no way she could even think of something like that!”

“You don’t know that!” Stiles shot back, pointing his finger at Scott’s face. “Jennifer was our teacher! _And_ a murdering psychopath! There were _crows_ in our classroom, Scott! Crows!”

Scott furrowed his brow. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know!” he shouted, throwing his hands up. “We can’t trust anyone! Every new person in this town is a potential killer and I was right all along!” He pointed to his face. “Whoa, I’m dizzy.”

“Okay, I’m gonna leave now, you’re getting loopy.”

“No, wait! Tell Lydia to bring me books! Books about spells and revenge and stuff. I can help. I promise, I can help.”

“Yes, okay. I’ll tell her. You need to get some rest. Do you need anything?”

Stiles licked his lips as his eyes slid shut. “Muffins. Chocolate chip and blueberry. Mmmm.”

“Right, muffins. I’ll see what I can do. See ya later buddy.” Scott patted him on the knee as Stiles fell into a dizzy slumber.

.

Derek’s eyes glowed red.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Derek came closer, drinking him in, turning his head to the side with a satisfied smile.

“Here to see the show, Stiles? I’ve got something special for you.”

Derek threw him back, into a wall, and pain lanced up his spine and radiated through his skull.

“Stiles, the never-ending mouth and fount of knowledge, here to soak up all he can about Derek and his freaky condition. What do you want to know, Stiles? Hmm? Let me tell you what I know.”

Derek came closer, looking down at him, red eyes glowing and shifting.

“I know you ruined your father, killed your mother, led so many of your friends to their deaths, how so many of them don’t even want you around them because you’re just a fuck up, you can’t even read sometimes. What are you, a child?”

_No,_ Stiles thought, pushing down the nausea, _I can read, I can read again, the darkness is gone._

“Or how about the fact that no woman will ever want you-”

Stiles struggled against the hands holding him down, wiggling, trying to break free. The pain was so bad.

“No one wants you-”

The pain was too much.

He screamed.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (10 points to you if you recognize the curse! You may be a drarry shipper!)
> 
> Things get rough from here on out, so for each chapter I'll post additional warnings. You're more important.


	4. Derek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Verbal abuse and humiliation

“Stiles! Stiles, calm down!”

Stiles gulped air, cutting off the sound of screaming, and forced himself to stop moving. His dad held him down tightly.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself. Are you okay?”

Stiles struggled to pull himself away from the dream world, away from Derek’s eyes. _Derek’s eyes glowed blue, not red._ The thought calmed him, and he took in a shuddering breath.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Bad dream.” He didn’t imagine the pain, though. His whole body ached, his head pounded, and his back was on fire. He noticed it was getting dark out.

“How long have I been out?”

“You’re two hours past your last dosage time. I wasn’t sure if you woke up and took another, so I left you alone. You need one?

“Yes.” He winced as he tried stretching his limbs. The pain was making him nauseous. “Oh, god, I think I need to eat something.” He swallowed back the bile rising in his throat and reached for the bottle of water on his nightstand. His dad shook out two pills and dropped them in Stiles’ upturned palm.

“Scott said you wanted muffins. I don’t have muffins, but we do have mac n’ cheese, hamburgers, pizza, or I can just make you a sandwich.”

Nothing sounded appetizing. “Just bread. I don’t think I can handle anything else.”

“Okay. Maybe that’s why you wanted muffins…” His dad gave him a small smile and went back downstairs.

Stiles breathed through the pain, sipped on his water, and forced the image of a red-eyed Derek out of his mind.

.

“I’ve read through these two, skimming the curses section, but nothing even remotely matched, and then this one doesn’t seem to have sections, but lists of curses in an index, but no description, so you have to flip to each one individually, and see if it fits-” Lydia set aside each book as she explained, and Stiles ran his fingers over the cover of the one he held.

It was old, very old, and smelled musty, but he liked it. The cover was a faded maroon cloth, the title worn away with time. He stroked it, listening to Lydia, and with his other hand, clutched the amulet.

“So I think you should start with this one, I haven’t gotten to it yet. I’m going to Deaton’s today to look through some of his volumes. Hopefully I can convince him to let me take them for a while.”

Stiles nodded, overwhelmed. The situation felt hopeless. So many possibilities, and they didn’t know how the curse had been cast on Derek or when, and they didn’t know Janine’s phone number. She’d had it changed, and blocked everyone on facebook. Derek couldn’t remember her parent’s names. She didn’t have a criminal record so she didn’t come up in the system either.

“How are you feeling?” Lydia asked.

“Oh, uh,” he shrugged, “Okay. Relatively. It sucks. I want to be able to help more. Feel kinda useless.”

She gave him a sad smile. “Well, maybe you’ll find something I haven’t.”

Yeah, right, that wasn’t likely.

“Has Deaton figured anything out with the sedation?” Stiles asked.

“Yes, but nothing good. Standard tranquilizers wear off too quickly, anything with wolfsbane could kill him, excessive amounts of sleeping pills turn him into a yelling zombie. He literally stumbles around and slurs like he’s drunk.”

“Do you have video of that?”

“Of course.” Lydia smiled, then sighed. “Nothing has worked well enough to be effective, and even if it was, it wouldn’t be smart to do it every night. Too many risks with dependency and liver damage… But I wonder if werewolves would even have internal damage, or would they heal immediately…”

Stiles smiled, watching Lydia’s mind turn. “Well, thanks for these.”

Lydia turned, surprised. “Oh, yes. Good luck, call me if you find anything.”

“Yep. Thanks Lydia.”

She flounced out his door and he stared down at the book in his hands. He opened the cover carefully, hearing the binding crack and shift. He moved through the pages slowly, reading and absorbing, learning more than he ever wanted to about spells and witchcraft. Would these really work? Offering sacrifices, burning the hair from the victim, letting blood? It sounded so gruesome. Gruesome and dark. Were all spells like this? Surely not. This book was about curses, of course it was dark.

He kept turning pages, seeing a pattern in the spells listed. They were from different countries.

This one was from Finland, the next from Argentina, the next from Spain.

His eyes caught on the words.

He read them over and over, making sure he was seeing it correctly.

_the Jilted Lover’s curse_

He sucked in a deep breath and forced himself not to get his hopes up. His heart beat erratically in his chest as he began to read.

The first paragraph described the curse. It would arrive in the evening, beginning when the moon shone and ending when the victim grew weary. The victim would speak the most horrible words they could fathom and see into the minds of their companions to find their most vulnerable thoughts.

Stiles pressed the amulet to his lips, eyes wide as he read on.

The victim could not be left alone or he would want to harm himself or items around himself. To break the curse, -oh god… Stiles read on, realizing that Derek may very well live with this for the rest of his life.

He read it again to be sure he didn’t misunderstand, but no, there on the page, it read:

_The curse makes the victim unable to stop speaking. To break the curse, one must take a vow of silence for the period of three full moons._

A vow of silence? Like, purposeful mutism? Stiles shook his head in bafflement. Witchcraft was so weird. He read on.

_The curse-breaker must announce publicly their vow of silence and give no reason._

_The curse-breaker must not communicate in any way during the vow._

_Only one attempt may be made to break the curse. If the curse-breaker fails, the victim will live with the curse for the rest of his life._

_The curse-breaker may not tell anyone in advance why they are taking a vow of silence._

_The last words the curse-breaker will speak will be the words of the enchantment that marks the beginning of the vow of silence. The curse will end on the night of new moon after the third and final full moon._

_The curse-breaker may not speak, nod or shake their head in response, use other languages, write, or communicate in any way for the duration of the vow._

_The curse-breaker may smile, laugh, cry, touch, and kiss._

Stiles couldn’t believe it. He found it. But how in the hell would any of them be able to take a vow of silence? And how would it work if they all discussed it beforehand? Wouldn’t that technically be ‘telling in advance?’

Oh god.

Stiles read the next few pages that detailed its history. It was invented in Spain, the idea of a spurned lover. She wanted her cheating lover and his new companion to suffer every night. Either the curse would kill him or the new lover would.

How vengeful. Stiles was almost glad he’d never had a girlfriend.

Stiles read on learning the etymology of it, and the simple way to cause it. The curse could be invoked by a word, or be placed on an object. The victim would have to touch the object for the curse to activate.

Stiles wondered… The curse had come on the night of the carjacking. Derek had arrived to the scene and assumedly helped Stiles, maybe manhandled him a bit to get at the wound. He’d gone straight to the hospital and then on to the preserve with Scott and Isaac. The only things he’d most likely touched were on Stiles, the ambulance, he probably washed his hands at some point… But it had to be something Janine had touched as well...

Oh no...

Stiles ripped the amulet off his neck and threw it across the room. His vision began to blur as he realized- Derek hadn’t touched his own amulet before giving it to Stiles, only the cord that held it. The curse didn’t begin until Stiles had activated his amulet, Derek came running, and then Derek must have touched the amulet around Stiles’ neck (probably prying it from his fingers), triggering the curse.

Stiles held his head in his hands. He couldn’t believe it, he was responsible- at least partially. God, damn him and his gullible, soft heart. If he’d never gotten out of the Jeep that night he would have gone uninjured, and Derek wouldn’t be suffering. Well, and that other girl would most likely be dead.

But what about the next time Stiles got in trouble? He was a magnet for dangerous situations and people; it was only a matter of _when_ , not if. And when that happened, Stiles had no doubt he would have used the amulet.

The whole situation was inevitable, it would have happened no matter what. The thought did nothing to ease the guilt Stiles felt settle low in his stomach.

Thoughts swirled in his head. _What am I gonna do? I can’t tell anyone, or can I? I’m partially responsible, it may be my responsibility to fix it._

No, he couldn’t seriously consider being the one to break it. There’s no way he’d be able to. His mouth moved sometimes without him even thinking about it!

He groaned and downed two more pills, hoping they’d kick in quickly. He rubbed his face and tossed the book away, unable to stomach reading it again. He laid back, stared at the ceiling, and selfishly wished he’d never opened the book to begin with.

.

Days passed and Stiles healed. He didn’t have as many limitations as Melissa seemed to think he would, but he did have trouble bending over to put socks on. Instead of bothering anyone with the task, he went without socks, shoving his feet into tennis shoes, glad that the double knots held.

He gingerly walked downstairs and greeted his dad, making himself a breakfast of toast and orange juice.

“Going out today?” his dad asked.

“Yep. Gonna try. Scott invited me over.”

“Be careful driving. You’re not hopped up on meds now, right?”

“No, I’ll take one when I get there.”

“Okay. Don’t stop for any strangers. And take extra pills with you.”

“Yes, yes, yes, already got ‘em,” Stiles assured, patting his pants pocket.

“Oh, they set a trial date. You’ll need to be there, they may call you to testify. It’s in January.”

“January? Seriously? That’s over a month away!”

His dad shrugged. “That’s the judicial system for you. They may not need your testimony, as long as the primary victim is willing to testify, but be prepared just in case.”

“‘Kay. I’d do it to see that bas-- bad guy locked up.”

His dad gave him a rueful smile. “Yeah. Go on, go bug Scott.”

The drive over was uneventful, but the jarring sensation of potholes was not one Stiles wished to repeat. He resolved to be more careful on the way back.

He let himself in Scott’s house, and not finding him downstairs, went up to his room.

“Scott?”

Scott lay face down on his bed, fully clothed, fast asleep. Stiles smiled at the sight. He didn’t want to disturb him; if he fell asleep like that he probably really needed the rest. He grabbed Scott’s laptop and went downstairs.

He set it up in the kitchen, brewed some coffee, popped half a pill and went to work. He’d been researching curse breaking for the last few days and he’d found a forum that seemed legitimate. He’d searched the threads, but no one had mentioned a curse like Derek’s, one where someone would have to do something long term to rectify it.

He made an account and began a new thread, posting a hypothetical without saying anything that could be construed as ‘telling in advance.’ He really hated how vague the wording was. No matter how many times he read the passage about the curse, he couldn’t discern a clearer meaning.

He hit post, then checked other sites while he waited for a response. He spent the next two hours sifting through more useless websites before one kind soul responded.

_**goddessofearth76** replied to your post:_

_This sounds like a simple exchange. The spell is one that loops, triggered by the moon, and to break that loop, one must offer something to negate it. This is the most simple form of magic, and the one that makes most scientific sense. I do not know of another way to end a loop, and in dire circumstances and with extreme spells I would not recommend searching for one. Exchange magic is simple, but almost to a fault- nothing else works in its place, and therefore could cause the spell to loop indefinitely._

_Blessings be, and I do hope you find what you’re looking for._

 

Stiles let out a long breath. This confirmed everything he dreaded. It seemed the vow of silence was the only way to break it, and it could only be attempted once. He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated, wishing there was another way, wishing he could speak concretely about the possibility of _someone_ taking the vow.

Scott blundered into the kitchen, squinting at Stiles. “Hi,” he croaked.

“Hey sunshine. Rough night?”

Scott grabbed the milk out of the fridge and poured a glass. He drank it in one long pull, and poured himself another. “Yeah. Derek was up all night. He was awake when it wore off.” He pulled out a chair and sat heavily, taking another long pull from his glass.

“Has that ever happened before?”

“No.”

Stiles read the weariness in Scott’s shoulders, the drooping of his face, and the absence of energy that usually thrummed under Scott’s skin. His presence was… lacking.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Do you wanna go with me today? We need to clean up the loft and take more furniture up there. We didn’t yesterday and that led to the mess we have to deal with today…” Scott trailed off, staring into his glass.

“Sure buddy. I’ll help wherever I can.”

Scott nodded, finished his milk and then trudged upstairs.

The guilt he felt upon discovering the curse was nothing compared to witnessing Scott’s tired form face another day of caretaking and verbal abuse.

.

He helped as much as he could, which admittedly wasn’t much, as he couldn’t lift anything or bend down, but he did sweep and mop. It left him aching and longing for the comfort of his bed and too many pillows. He popped half a pill, hoping it would take the edge off.

Scott and Isaac moved in a solid-looking desk, complete with many drawers and cabinets. Stiles figured the more parts to it, the longer it kept Derek occupied.

Derek was upstairs sleeping, and they left before he woke.

“It sucks,” Scott began as they took the stairs down, “because if he doesn’t get enough sleep, then the episode doesn’t last as long, but he’s not really awake the next day because he’s so tired. It’s a… what’s the word for it?”

“Paradox?” Isaac supplied.

“Catch 22,” Stiles said.

“Yeah, that. My mom’s making lasagna tonight, wanna come, Stiles?”

“Absolutely. I’m not missing out on that.”

.

Stiles was pleased to find that Scott seemed energized by the hard work from earlier and his mom’s excellent cooking. He himself was getting sleepy, lounging on the couch, full and digesting another half a pain pill, watching Scott and Isaac play Mario Kart.

Scott’s phone rang about half past eight.

“Allison? … Yeah, no it’s fine. We’ll be right over.”

Scott got up and grabbed his coat, Isaac following his lead.

“Derek?” Stiles asked.

Scott looked back, like he was surprised to find Stiles still there. “Yeah, sorry, he’s a little too intense tonight. You’ll make it home okay?”

“No, I wanna go with,” Stiles insisted, slowly getting up from the couch.

“I don’t think-”

“I’ll have two werewolves and a badass hunter as first line of defense- I think it’ll be okay.”

Scott frowned, but didn’t protest.

 

As soon as they opened the door to the loft, a huge chunk of wood sailed over their heads into the hall. Stiles ducked too quickly and winced as his back twinged.

“Sorry! I couldn’t-” Allison began, rushing over.

“It’s fine,” Scott reassured, stepping further into the loft towards Derek.

Stiles finally moved around them enough to see Derek. He was standing by the windows, staring at Scott, shoulders heaving with every breath. His eyes were wild, but remained human.

“Oh, Scotty, my favorite imposter! The pretender of Alphas, the fake hero everyone loves to hate.” Stiles struggled to assimilate the sound of Derek’s voice and the words spilling from his mouth. He’d never sounded so purposefully cruel.

Allison spoke to Scott like Derek wasn’t even there. “He was throwing splinters at me. I don’t even know why, he had plenty of things to say today,” she glared over her shoulder. Scott reassured her, telling her to help Isaac bring in the wood from the hall.

Derek watched it all, mumbling to himself, and then his eyes caught on Stiles.

“Here to see the freak show, Stilinski?” Derek cocked his head, eyes glittering as they raked up and down Stiles’ body.

Stiles could feel his heart racing in reaction to the scrutiny. He froze, waiting to see what would happen next.

Derek stalked forward, eyes fixed on Stiles, and his expression became predatory. Almost… seductive. He stopped in front of Stiles an arm’s length away, chin up, eyes heavy-lidded.

“Oh Stiles,” Derek whispered, sending a creeping chill up Stiles’ neck, “All those secrets. So many to choose from. Who knew you had so many skeletons in your closet?”

Stiles clenched his jaw. He didn’t have _that_ many secrets. Scott watched them, but Stiles waved him off. He grabbed Derek’s arm, steering him to the couch against the wall. “Let’s talk, shall we? I never thanked you for saving my life.”

Derek sat beside him, unperturbed by the change in location, eyes still fixed on Stiles’ face. “I wouldn’t say that. I maybe prolonged it by a few years. You won’t live past your 21st birthday. No one will be surprised; they’ll say, ‘That Stilinski, never could figure out the difference between the on and off switch.’”

Stiles laughed at the ridiculousness of that statement. Everyone’s heads whipped to stare at him. “Oh my god! Sorry to disappoint, but I’ve never accidentally electrocuted myself like some people I know.”

Derek smiled, a slow creeping smile, and his eyes warmed. It wasn’t a comforting sight.

“No, but you have accidentally done other things.”

A chill ran up his spine and his neck tingled.

“What haunts your dreams more often? The vision of your dead mother or your garroted childhood friend?” Derek let that sink in, licking his lips. “Heather didn’t even really like you- she wanted to get off and thought you’d do the job. She trusted you. And you _left_ her. Left her to be sacrificed. How does it feel, Stiles, knowing she struggled for her life while she was still _wet_ for you?”

Stiles eyebrows shot up and his heart pounded in his throat. He’d never quite thought of it that way…

“Jennifer had to have been watching, seeing you kiss and grope blindly, like you knew what you were doing.” Derek’s hand touched his knee and began to slide up his thigh. “She must have seen you get half hard in your jeans, felt your desperation to get it out, to get it inside. I bet she struggled, wanting Heather for herself and wanting the entertainment of seeing you fumble through your virginity. She could have killed you both right there, but I bet Heather was more pure. She didn’t jack off to thoughts of Lydia getting reamed by the kanima.”

Stiles’ stomach dropped. He covered his eyes and ignored the gasp from across the room.

“What bothers you more, Stiles?” Derek continued without missing a beat, “The fact that bestiality turns you on, or that you’ve imagined liaisons with your best friend? Or even better, your best friend in wolf form?”

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long exhale. He shifted, displacing Derek’s hand on his thigh. He tried to get his breathing under control, but Derek kept at it.

“What is it about a dog dick, Stiles-”

“Okay, that’s enough, let’s change the subject,” Stiles said, holding up a hand.

“Touchy. Don't like talking about your sexuality?" Derek leaned forward, whispering in Stiles' ear. "Later. In private."

Stiles shivered from dread or anticipation, he wasn't sure which.

"Would you rather talk about how you’re a fuck up who caused your father to become an alcoholic?”

_Yes,_ he thought, _yes, I can handle that_.

Derek expounded on the subject, calling Stiles a plethora of names, and Stiles found himself sinking into it, wondering what Derek would come up with next. He tried to stay calm and take it all in stride and when he could, he’d throw insults right back at him just to see Derek smile again.

After he’d exhausted the subject of Stiles’ insecurities about his appearance, his voice began to grow hoarse and the spaces between his sentences grew longer. A little past 2am, Derek fell asleep sitting up.

Stiles saw the others curled up on Derek’s bed across the room, also fast asleep. He took a moment to gather himself, then went to the bathroom, took another pain pill, and fell across the foot of Derek’s bed, falling asleep within seconds.

.

As he’d been told to expect, Derek was extremely apologetic the next morning, hardly looking at Stiles, so shamefaced he was.

Stiles gave him a pat on the shoulder and told him he could take whatever he dished out, winking at him, but Derek only sighed and looked away.

He left the loft with grim determination.

He may have to sew his lips shut, but he’d find a way to break the curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Curse adapted from Duinn Fionn's work, A Thousand Beautiful Things. If you like Harry Potter and Drarry, check it out, it's a wonderful fic.)


	5. Silence

He couldn’t do it. It wasn’t possible.

He’d tried, he really had, but his first attempt at not speaking had lasted 11 minutes, 42 seconds; broken when he’d bent to pick up a shirt and shouted ‘FUCK!’ when his back protested.

He tried again and lasted two hours before he caught himself singing under his breath.

He made another attempt. That night at the dinner table he stayed silent, but realized he was responding to his dad nonverbally- nodding his head and using hand gestures. One nod, he thought, and Derek would be stuck like this for the rest of his life. _One nod_.

Stiles imagined restraining himself physically to get the results he needed. First, he’d have to get his jaw wired shut; then to prohibit head movement, a neck brace or head gear, and how about a straightjacket to complete the look? He sighed, reading the passage over and over, and almost had it memorized, but he copied it down anyway. He knew at some point he’d have to give the book back to Lydia and he didn’t care to go without a copy when he was mute.

He despaired at the thought that he’d have to go without writing. He bet that included typing, texting, doing homework, and of course the simplest form, pen and paper. God, what would he do for the next three months to stay entertained? Would he be able to go to school and not respond to anyone? Purposefully not do homework or participate in class? Maybe after it was over he could make up all the missed assignments, but that wouldn’t make it any less awkward as it was happening.

Christmas was in a month’s time, and there would be a few weeks in there with no obligations. He hoped he could make it that long…

But no, he couldn’t think like that. _Trying_ was not an option. _Failing_ was not an option. He had to do this, commit, and succeed. If he failed, he could easily see Derek asking them to kill him, or do the job himself.

He couldn’t let that happen.

.

He tried to eliminate the temptations where he could. He covered his computer keyboard after saving all this passwords to different sites and leaving them logged in; he changed his cell phone plan to not include texting (which cost more? -that didn’t seem right to him); he threw away every writing utensil he found in his house. He knew his dad would be pissed, but in the grand scheme of things, he couldn’t say he cared.

He could get by without writing, but not responding to direct questions was difficult. He practiced in normal conversation with Scott and Lydia to keep still. No using his hands or enthusiastic nodding or shaking his head, and he kept his face neutral at all times. His fingers itched to move more; talking with no hand gestures was so unnatural. But he grew accustomed to it after a few days. Once used to that, he cut out unnecessary talking, literally biting his tongue when the urge arose, and gradually weaned himself further and further until he went a whole day without speaking or gesturing once.

He gave himself a week to become comfortable with the silence. Any longer and he felt like he’d be stalling. When he’d gone three consecutive days without speaking or responding he finally felt… well, not ready, but as prepared as he could be.

But before he could begin the counterspell, he had some things left to do.

He typed and printed out three short sentences and sealed them in an envelope. He programmed his dad and friend’s phone numbers on speed dial so he wouldn’t have to type in names. He called a friend from the Jungle to ask for recommendations.

The next evening, the night before the full moon, Stiles returned to his room, less one envelope, and more one tongue piercing.

He locked the door and window and sat down on the floor. He lit the candle he bought just for this occasion and read over the incantation one more time. He rolled the ball in his tongue against the roof of his mouth and took a deep breath.

.

The intercom sounded, alerting students for morning announcements.

“... and finally, we have a special announcement this morning. A student has asked us to read this to the entire school. It says:

Stiles Stilinski announces that he has taken a vow of silence.

He will no longer be communicating in any form.

He apologizes for any inconvenience or disturbance this may cause.”

The intercom clicked off, and Stiles stared at his open textbook, ignoring the looks sent his way. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come to school today. He was already testing his limits, and it was only the first day.

His science teacher kicked off the lecture and eventually everyone stopped whispering around him. The bell rang and everyone packed up.

“Mr. Stilinski, stay a moment?”

Stiles shifted from foot to foot in front of his desk as everyone else filed out the door to their next class. He made his way up, biting hard on his lower lip.

“You do know 40 percent of your grade in this course is class participation?”

Stiles stared, biting even harder.

“Do your half of the work with your lab partner and I won’t give you a hard time. Got it?”

Stiles smiled, relieved.

Thankfully, Stiles realized most of his classes he’d do alright in considering it was nearing the end of the semester, except his English Lit course. He’d read the material, but he couldn’t finish the essay-based final coming up in two weeks. He conceded he may not pass that one.

The most trying part of the day was lunch. He was bombarded by his friends as soon as he sat down.

“Stiles!” Scott practically yelled in his ear. “Why are you taking a vow of silence? You’re like, the least silent person I know. You’re the most loquacious.”

Stiles smiled at Scott’s SAT word, and dug into his meal.

Lydia sat down across from him and stared, like she was trying to see inside his head. Allison sat next to her, also staring at Stiles but with a confused smile.

“Are you becoming a nun or something? I didn’t even know you were religious,” Scott said.

“It’s monk,” Lydia interjected, narrowing her eyes at Stiles.

“What?”

“He’d be a monk, not a nun,” Isaac said, sitting on the other side of Stiles. He offered him a small smile but didn’t comment further.

“Oh,” Scott said. “So are you gonna be a monk?”

Stiles stuffed a fry in his mouth.

“He said he won’t be communicating, Scott, so you might stop asking questions that aren’t going to be answered.” Lydia finally broke eye contact, seemingly satisfied with whatever she’d found.

“Oh, right.” Scott said, dejected. The table fell silent as everyone ate.

“This is weird,” Allison said softly, breaking the awkward silence.

“Yeah,” Isaac said, looking over at Stiles. Slowly, he felt all their eyes turn to him. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

“So!”

Everyone jumped at Lydia’s abrupt exclamation. “Deaton thinks he may have found something about the curse! He’s been in contact with a Navajo emissary, and she thinks it may have ties with another curse she’s seen before. She’s gathering her materials, so Deaton is hopeful.”

“Navajo?” Scott asked. “But why would Janine know a Navajo curse? She’s a white girl from New York.”

“And I’m a white girl from California, but I know more languages than anyone in this school, including two from different Native American tribes. Knowledge does not mean firsthand experience.”

Scott looked taken aback.

“But wouldn’t she _need_ firsthand experience to cast something like that?” Isaac countered. “I mean, do most emissaries even cast curses that often?”

Lydia shrugged. “I’d never made a molotov cocktail until I did. And it worked the first try, so I’d say it doesn’t matter if she’d never done it before. Knowledge is power.” Her gaze flicked to Stiles and held.

Stiles swallowed and looked away.

“Well, I hope he finds something soon. Dad and I are going on vacation over Christmas break. Are you guys gonna be able to handle two weeks without me?” Allison asked.

Shit. That essentially meant Scott would have to be there every night, since Isaac, Lydia or he couldn’t be there with him alone.

“Yeah,” Scott breathed. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe Peter would be willing to stick around for more than one day.”

“It’s like we’re all taking care of a sick parent,” Isaac said into his lunch.

Scott frowned. “No, it’s more like a sick kid. He’ll get better. Some things take longer to heal than others.”

Stiles smiled and patted Scott on the back. Scott's face looked surprised but slowly morphed into happiness. He smiled back and they nudged shoulders.

"So..." Scott said under his breath toward Stiles, "how long are you gonna do this? It's not permanent, right?"

Stiles bit his lip and forced his head to stay still.

"Cuz I don't think I can handle forever without my best friend talking to me."

Stiles stared at Scott, heart clenching. Stiles threw his arms around him and hoped hugs were reassuring enough to get them through the next few months of silence.

The rest of the day went as well as he could hope, but lacrosse practice went impossibly better.

“Stilinski!”

Stiles startled, almost tripping as he changed into his gear, and bit back his automatic reply of ‘Yes, Coach?’ Coach caught his eye and beckoned him with one finger. Stiles finished changing and followed him into his office.

“What’s all this nonsense about a ‘vow of silence?’ Oh, please tell me it’s not true. Is this one of those…” he waved his hands around, “political statements? Social activism or something?”

Stiles sighed, looking at the posters behind Coach’s head.

“Not that I’m complaining, you should… do what you feel is right?” He grimaced, obviously uncomfortable voicing his support.

Stiles frowned, wondering if this was going anywhere.

“I just wanted to say, that, as a young person- many years ago- there were things I wished I had done and voiced my opinions, and well-” Coach was moving around restlessly, motioning with his hands and not making eye contact, “- I think you’re a… a good kid. So. Yeah.” He held out his hands like he was expecting Stiles to comment.

Stiles gave him a tentative smile.

“Right. This better not affect your playing. Wait, no, I hope it does. I hope you shutting your trap will somehow bottle all of your energy and make you a better player, that’s it. Okay, get outta my office.”

Stiles sniffed and went back in the locker room, feeling strangely buoyant.

.

Stiles had two missed calls from his dad. No voicemails.

Stiles sat in the kitchen, reading a book, awaiting judgment.

The cruiser’s headlights flickered through the front windows and Stiles’ heart began to thump obnoxiously.

The Sheriff opened the door and let it slam behind him, moving quickly into the house. “Stiles?”

Stiles couldn’t help but flinch at the volume, and he banged his knee on the underside of the table. He bit his tongue and rubbed the sore spot. His father, having heard him, came in the kitchen and watched him with a cross expression.

Stiles knew this routine. This was the ‘you know you’re in trouble, so why don’t you just fess up’ shtick. Unfortunately, his dad would have to wait a long time before he’d open his mouth.

When Stiles continued to stay silent and unmoved, the Sheriff sighed. “So it’s true, then? A vow of silence?” He scrubbed a hand over his face and through his hair, then pulled out a chair and slumped into it. “Is this another-” he held out his hand and wiggled his fingers in the air, “-supernatural thing that I can’t know about?”

Stiles’ heart stuttered. He’d got it in one. Stiles smiled sadly at him.

“Right. Do I get any indication on how long this will go on?”

Stiles looked down at his hands.

“Oh kid. I wish you would have found a way to tell me. I had to find out from Scott why you weren’t answering your phone. You certainly don’t make my life any easier.”

Stiles bit his tongue and breathed harshly though his nose.

“No, I just mean- aw hell. I love you, son, and I just hate it when you don’t feel like you can tell me things.”

Stiles reached across the table and placed a hand over his dad’s clenched fist. He relaxed and offered Stiles a small smile. They sat there together, in comfortable silence.

His dad cleared his throat and patted Stiles’ hand before pulling away.

“So, what do you want for dinner?” He said, getting up and opening the door to the fridge. “We have eggs. Bacon. How about breakfast for dinner?” He turned and looked at Stiles.

Stiles smiled.

“Breakfast it is then.”

.

Stiles was watching Game of Thrones with a pillow shoved against his face when the doorbell rang. His dad answered it, and Stiles watched as he ushered someone in. Someone with red hair.

“Stiles,” Lydia beckoned, like she was calling a dog to heel, “Can we talk?” She tilted her head toward the stairs.

Stiles clenched his jaw, fighting the instinct to nod. He got up and lead the way to his room. He ushered her in and closed the door, feeling like he’d just closed a trap around himself.

Lydia wasted no time. “You found something, didn’t you. You’ve been acting strange for a while but I couldn’t figure it out. I know you can’t tell me…” her eyes danced as she worked her jaw, “but I bet the answer is in this room.”

Stiles had thought a lot about this. In all his combing through of the same passages of text, nowhere had it said anything about anyone else _discovering_ the curse-breaker’s intent, it only forbade telling in advance. He calmly walked to his bed, watching Lydia search through his things. She found the stack of books she’d given him under his desk.

“Ah! I looked through these, but not… this one.” She held up the faded maroon cloth-covered book and glanced at Stiles. He smiled at her. She blinked in response.

“Hmm.” She stood and smoothed out her skirt. She held the book upright, with the spine flat against the surface of his desk. She took her hands away and the book fell open.

Oh, clever. He’d read the passage so many times the binding had cracked. It opened straight to the right page.

“The Jilted Lover’s curse… oh my god… you found it.” She looked at him in awe. He rubbed his fingers over his lips and played with the stud in his tongue.

She murmured to herself as she read, shaking her head, and occasionally said ‘oh my god.’ Stiles watched her read, knowing which part she’d gotten to by her reaction. She finally finished and came to sit by him on the bed.

She seemed to be taking it all in. Or maybe she was calculating.

“February 21st. That’s the last night.” Yes, calculating.

“I’ll let everyone know so they don’t bother you.” He sucked in a breath and snatched her hand, heart racing.

“What? You don’t want everyone to know? Why? Then Deaton could call off the search and we’d all just… wait it out. Why would that be a bad thing?” Lydia tilted her head and squinted her eyes.

Stiles couldn’t meet her gaze. He worked his jaw wondering if she’d figure it out.

“You certainly didn’t care about me knowing. You let me into your room. But everyone else… do you not trust them? That’s not it.” She took her hand back and leaned forward, drumming her fingertips against her red lips.

“Is it Derek?” Stiles looked away. “It is. You don’t want Derek to know. Why? It’s not like you cast the curse on him.”

Lydia froze. Stiles’ heart hammered away, and he pulled his knees up to his chest. She was too smart. Why didn’t he think of this before?

Lydia snatched up the book again and began pacing across the length of his room. She talked to herself, coming up with different scenarios, casting Stiles as the villain- but no- Stiles didn’t have the ability to cast a curse like this, and he’d only just received the book (-Stiles rolled his eyes at that, she mentioned nothing about how Stiles was _good person_ or anything); casting Stiles as a victim- perhaps he had been persuaded by Janine to cast it, unaware of what it would do, or perhaps Stiles was the object itself! But was that even possible? Could a person have a curse cast on them as if they were an object?

Stiles realized Lydia knew nothing about the amulet. She would never figure it out because she was missing the crucial link. He sighed. If he didn’t show her, she’d never leave and he’d never get to sleep. If he did- well, he might get a couple hours.

He dug through his bedside drawer and pulled out the amulet, careful to only touch the leather cord. He stopped Lydia with a hand on her shoulder.

“Wha- Oh! This was it? Oh-” she began to reach for it, but Stiles jerked it out of her reach. He didn’t know if it would have an effect on anyone else, but he didn’t want to risk it.

“Did Janine give it to you? Oh! Oh no, that’s Derek’s isn’t it? Oh my god!” He threw it back into his drawer and flopped on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Lydia deduced for another ten minutes, coming up with mostly accurate theories. The only thing she got wrong though, she got really, really wrong.

“Even if you somehow feel guilty about your role in all of this, you must know it’s not your fault. I mean, at this point it’d be your fault if you failed and Derek was cursed forever-”

Stiles covered his eyes.

“-but you won’t. So I don’t see a point in not telling.” Lydia got quiet and Stiles huffed. “Unless there’s another reason.” She began pacing again and Stiles stared at the ceiling, wishing he could go back to his show.

“Oh!” She stopped and clutched the book to her chest and looked at Stiles with a fond, but almost hurt expression. “I didn’t know you felt this way about him.”

Stiles stared at her with wide eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell anybody? I mean, I had my suspicions, especially when you got so jealous over Janine-”

Stiles thought his eyes were about to shrivel up; they were so dry from staring.

“-but it makes sense, I mean, what with your special kinks-”

Stiles covered his face with his hands, flushing with embarrassment.

“-and he does better with you at night. Oh, maybe even through the curse he can’t bear to hurt you and that’s why he always gets really calm when you’re around. Oh, Stiles. That’s so sweet.” She smiled serenely at him, and he huffed, refusing to smile back.

“Okay. Fine. I won’t tell anyone. But, I think that means you should do something for me.”

He grit his teeth and flared his nostrils.

“You need to take at least half of my Derek-duty nights. Like I said, he’s better with you around anyway. With me, he literally just screams. The entire time. It’s the least you can do.”  


Stiles sighed and gave her a grudging smile. She walked over and patted him on the cheek. “Good boy. Also, I retain full rights to change my mind about keeping quiet if this turns dangerous. Okay? Okay. I’m taking this with me.” She held up the book he’d become so familiar with. She went to the door and as she was walked through, turned around and said, “I’m proud of you.” He could only blink in response.

He listened to her flounce down the stairs and out the door, feeling as if that entire encounter wouldn’t have gone much differently even if he could speak.


	6. Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major warnings: canon typical violence, verbal abuse, dubious consent. Additional warnings at the end.

Stiles only saw Derek at night.

During his scheduled shifts, he would show up with either Scott or Allison or Isaac and they would quietly see themselves upstairs while Derek stalked over to Stiles with that slow, creeping smile.

Derek didn’t pull his punches. He talked about things Stiles had never consciously thought about before, and it challenged him. He couldn’t respond, but he had to wonder, ‘Is that really me? Do I really think like that?’ Occasionally Derek would get stuck on a topic and begin to repeat himself. He didn’t seem to notice, so Stiles would tune him out and lean back, thinking deep thoughts, and watch Derek's lips move.

Over time, Stiles came to learn far too much about his friends. Not only their hidden faults, but also their secret desires and sexual proclivities. Stiles couldn’t yell at Derek to shut up like the others, but he could touch Derek, which was an action no one else even attempted. When Derek got too fixated on a particular subject or person, Stiles would grab his arm and haul him out of the room. Unfortunately, that method wasn’t always successful.

One night he and Isaac had a shift, which Stiles thought would be fine. Derek could focus on Stiles, and Isaac would be there for physical back up. However, Derek got bored after an hour of berating Stiles and suddenly got quiet. Stiles looked up and saw Derek’s eyes flash at Isaac, who was lying on Derek’s bed, quietly reading.

“Ooooo, what’s baby Isaac reading?” Derek walked over to the bed, arms crossed. Isaac glanced at him, then looked back down at his book. “I can tell from the way your heart’s thumping that it’s _very interesting_.” Derek’s thighs nudged the bed and his hands hit the sheets. Isaac flinched.

“Is it about a daddy fucker, Isaac? Is that what you like reading about? Little boys begging for their daddy’s cocks?”

Stiles sat transfixed, his heart in his throat, unable to move. Isaac looked on the verge of shifting, eyes glowing yellow.

“It turns you on, doesn’t it? Thinking about all the things he did to you. Now you wish you could go back and ask for more, don’t you?”

Stiles couldn’t listen any longer. He got up and tugged hard on Derek’s arm. Derek growled as he whipped his head around, baring his teeth, and he lifted the hand Stiles held, throwing off Stiles’ balance. Derek’s hand found Stiles’ chest and pushed.

Rarely had Stiles had the opportunity to experience the full strength of a werewolf, and he had to admit, it was impressive. So impressive that it threw him across the room, knocked the air out of his lungs, and set the area around his still-healing stab wound on fire. Déjà vu crept over him as he curled on his side, fighting to get his breath back, to not throw up, and to stay silent through it all.

Finally, when he could breathe through the pain, he heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh. He glanced towards Derek’s desk and saw the obscured outline of Isaac sitting on Derek’s chest, punching him repeatedly.

Oh shit.

Stiles pulled out his phone and pressed the number two and put it on the coffee table. One hand holding his back, he hobbled over to Isaac and decided the best place to stand for leverage would be directly behind. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he swooped down and grabbed Isaac in a chokehold, lifted, and pulled him back. Isaac flailed for a second, then seemed to give in, wrapping his hands around Stiles’ arm.

After pulling him a safe distance away, he noticed Isaac was whining high in his throat. He loosened his hold, but he kept whining: a grating, anxious sound. A sudden flash of worry for Derek lanced through him. He rushed over, slipped on blood, and fell on Derek’s chest.

He almost cried out from the pain. He bit down hard on his tongue and sat up, finally seeing Derek’s face clearly.

Oh shit.

Isaac had used claws. Derek’s face was a series of slashes and torn flesh. His neck was the worst part. The delicate skin peeled back from each wound like curling rose petals, and Stiles could see each heartbeat as blood gushed in a quick rhythm.

He moved on autopilot, quickly grabbing pillows, towels, and ice, not sparing a look for the continually-whining Isaac. He propped Derek’s head up, wrapping a towel tightly around his neck, and put ice-filled washcloths around the worst of the damage.

Between the pain and the nausea, Stiles was amazed he could help Derek at all. He desperately wanted to lay on the cool floor and let both pass, but he kept vigil, trading out ice and using more towels.

By the time Scott arrived, the bleeding had slowed significantly, and Isaac had curled into himself, rocking back and forth on the floor.

“Holy… What happened?”

Isaac didn’t look up or otherwise acknowledge Scott’s presence, and Scott was frozen in the middle of the room, gaze stuck on the bloody tableau.

Stiles grit his teeth and wiped his hands off, leaving brown encrusted residue in the spaces between his fingers. He walked over and pulled Isaac to standing, ushering him out of the loft and forcing him to sit down in the hallway. He stood inside the door, looking at Scott, waiting for him to take the hint. Several unanswered questions later, Scott went out to comfort Isaac.

Stiles sat by Derek’s head, watching in fascination as his face slowly healed. Stiles pulled back the towel around his neck and saw freshly repaired skin, completely whole, as if nothing had happened.

Stiles thought there was a weird sort of parallel there. The person on the forum had said the spell was like a loop, repeating each night, like the night before had never happened. But each night left scars. Stiles could recall almost everything Derek had said to him, everything he’d said to the others; he knew Derek didn’t feel that way, but the slate was most definitely not wiped clean when the sun rose. Stiles wondered just how many scars Derek would have if his skin didn’t chose to erase them.

Derek woke slowly, eyelids fluttering. He coughed, swallowed, then came to awareness in a second. He turned his face to Stiles, eyes finding his. They stared for a long moment and Stiles studied the colors in Derek’s irises. Derek inhaled sharply, his eyes widened as if remembering, then squeezed shut. He clenched his jaw and turned his face towards Stiles’ jeans.

Stiles rested his hand against Derek’s collarbone, thumb rubbing lightly back and forth. Derek’s hand came up and grabbed it.

Stiles wasn’t sure what the stuttering, expanding feeling was in his chest, but it made him light headed and breathless. Derek held on, breathing harshly through his nose, small frown on his lips. Stiles offered what comfort he could; ruffling Derek’s hair with his other hand, stroking his temple, smoothing the lines on his forehead with his thumb. Derek slowly relaxed, opening his eyes, but he refused to look at Stiles.

Having gone so long without speaking, he wasn’t even sure what he would say right now if he could.

Whatever he came up with, it’d probably make it worse, he decided.

Scott and Isaac came in and Derek sat up quickly to apologize.

Scott held up his hand. “Isaac needs to talk first.”

Isaac looked fragile, but determined. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have flipped out on you like that. But when you hurt Stiles, I just lost it.” Scott and Stiles shared a look as Isaac gathered himself. “I don’t think I can come over at night anymore. I’ll help with stuff during the day, but I can’t take it at night.”

Derek dropped his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Isaac. I really truly am.”

“It’ll be better for both of you. It’s the best thing to do,” Scott said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Derek ran his hands through his hair, then huffed and got up and went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Scott sighed, looking defeated. He pulled out his phone. “It’s just after ten. Early night. We can actually get a full night of sleep!” He smiled at Stiles. Stiles smiled back and moved to the kitchen. Scott followed, asking “Do you need a ride home or anything? Did Derek hurt you badly?”  


Stiles grabbed a mop and a bucket.

“Oh. Thanks man. We would have done that tomorrow, but- okay. Yeah. Well, I’m gonna take Isaac home. You’ll make it back okay?”

Stiles smiled.

“Okay, see you tomorrow.”

Stiles went about mopping, wishing he had pain pills left. Over-the-counter didn’t quite cut it.

“Where are my fucking towels?” he heard Derek grumble in the bathroom. Before he could do anything, Derek opened the door, revealing his nakedness. His _wet_ nakedness. Derek noticed Stiles’ presence and shut the door halfway, leaning around the crack.

With a grimace he asked, “Where are my towels?”

Stiles pointedly looked at the ground, where Derek’s three towels were piled, covered in tacky blood.

Derek huffed. “Do I have anything that’s clean?”

Stiles snatched up a clean washcloth and threw it. Derek caught it, leveling Stiles with a look. Without breaking eye contact, he opened the door and used the washcloth to hold his junk. Stiles watched as he walked across the room, muscles flexing with every step. He went up the spiral staircase and Stiles watched a drop of water roll down his back. He lost track of it, eyes falling to Derek’s ass, then to his thighs and soft-looking backs of his knees to his calves and the tendons of his feet, tiptoeing up the stairs.

In all of their time acquainted, Stiles had never seen Derek quite so… naked.

He’d certainly seen him wetter, though.

Done mopping, he gathered the soiled towels, throwing them in the washing machine. He washed his hands and grabbed his phone, ready to leave, when Derek came back down, fully dressed.

“Listen, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I’ve never… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Stiles smiled, but Derek was looking at the floor. He walked over to him but Derek’s head never came up. Stiles got up close, the front of his chest bumping Derek’s shoulder. He raised his right arm, hand coming to rest on Derek’s shoulder blade, rubbing back and forth, softly. He smelled amazing, Stiles noticed. His fresh clean scent cut through the smell of blood and bleach and Stiles breathed him in.

Derek slowly relaxed. The arm against Stiles’ front shifted, and then he felt a large hand grip his hip. A fission of arousal coursed through him, and his sharp inhale caught Derek’s attention, face turning towards his.

Derek’s thumb stroked over Stiles’ hipbone, pushing up under his shirt. Tingles spread, and Stiles shuddered, breath coming in tiny pants. He stared at Derek’s shoulder as the image of Derek naked flashed in his mind’s eye. Stiles realized his fingers had fisted in Derek’s shirt. He was far too affected by this. God, was he so starved for touch that anything got him going? Stiles almost missed it when Derek began speaking.

“I must be crazy, but I miss your voice.”

Stiles watched his lips form the words, but his brain wasn’t processing at full speed. He didn’t know what was happening here. He was turned on (by Derek?), and Derek was saying nice things (what?), and he smelled delicious (like sweet and woodsy?), and his beard looked so soft (did he moisturize?)... Had he hit his head earlier?

Derek’s hand slid around his back, pulling him closer, and with the other, he wrapped Stiles in a fierce hug. Stiles immediately returned it, relieved, arms going around Derek’s firm torso, face buried in his neck. He breathed, getting his arousal under control, sinking into the embrace.

Since his mother died, he’d not hugged many people. His dad, Scott, Lydia on occasion (if those could be called hugs), and that was about it. He loved his friends, but he was more playfully affectionate than sincere. Hugging someone he didn’t particularly care for always felt awkward. The ones between he and Scott were always short, but heartfelt. He and his dad would just hug until it felt natural to let go.

Hugging Derek wasn’t like any of those. It was like… reaffirming something that Stiles didn’t even know existed between them. All he knew was that it felt right. Comfortable. Calming.

And still too damn arousing. Derek’s hand was pressed against his lower back, his fingertips just grazing the scar on his left side. Stiles could feel Derek’s heart beat, slightly slower than his own. His breath touched the area behind his ear, and he could feel the skin of Derek’s lips in sharp contrast to the stubble of his chin. Derek began to pull back and Stiles was reluctant to let go, feeling a little like he was drunk.

Derek’s stubble rasped against Stiles' cheek and when he opened his eyes, he found Derek’s face closer than he’d ever seen it. He was astounded by the amount of sheer emotion he saw in Derek’s eyes. They stared at each other for long seconds, with Stiles’ heart in his throat, and then Derek stepped back.

Stiles immediately felt the cold seep in where Derek had touched and he shivered. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to make the bulge in his pants less obvious. Derek crossed his arms and leaned against the banister. He was looking anywhere but at Stiles.

“I just wanted to say thanks. I know I don’t know what you’re actually thinking- which is novel, really- but I can’t help but think that… I mean, you’re… you’ve been really great. So, thanks.”

Stiles gave him a huge grin. Derek stared for a moment, then gave him a small smile in return.

That night, Stiles fell asleep thinking of a hand ghosting across his back.

.

Stiles only saw Derek at night.

The first new moon had passed and Stiles felt like a monk. He was achieving some high level transcendence shit here.

He'd taken more Derek-duty shifts, covering for Isaac, and every time Derek was under the influence of the curse he'd find a way to get right up in Stiles' space and whisper in his ear. He'd call Stiles a pervert, a cock-slut, a dog fucker; any name imaginable that cast Stiles in a bad light. It quickly became obvious that Derek had felt how aroused Stiles was during their hug.

The worst part wasn't the name calling, but the way Derek would touch him. It was never overtly sexual; a hand on his knee, fingers curling around his nape, his hot breath tickling his cheek. To anyone else, it might look intimate, but to Stiles it was torture.

The light touches in combination with the vitriol spewing out of Derek's mouth should have made him recoil. He should have been revolted; but in place of disgust, Stiles found himself tuning out the words and leaning into Derek's touch. He craved the attention, but fought with allowing or encouraging it. The dissonance between what he wanted and what was ‘right’ made his gut twist.

Every night was an exercise in maintaining the balance between letting Derek talk but not letting Derek get too close. At first, Stiles got mad. He used anger to push Derek away, but then Derek would come back more aggressively than the first time, fingers gripping his knee a little too hard and he’d whisper, ‘oh, so you like it rough, huh? I’ll keep that in mind, let Scott know how to take you if he ever deems you worthy of a pity fuck.’

Then, Stiles tried ignoring him. He’d sit on the couch with Derek beside him and pull out a book. Derek got annoyed; he’d talk louder and louder until Stiles couldn’t ignore him any longer. The next time, he came back with an iPod and earphones. Derek had destroyed it within ten minutes of his arrival.

Then Stiles gave up on listening altogether. He tried batting practice. With Scott beside him, he’d throw chunks of wood at Derek, or even tennis balls or golf balls, just to see what he’d do. He did tire more quickly, but he saw through the ruse after the third time. Instead of destroying what was thrown at him, he’d catch it and set it down, smiling crazily all the while. They gave up after that.

After one particularly trying day at school (a day full of finals he couldn’t complete and teachers giving him a hard time when he handed in blank pages without even his name at the top), Stiles was feeling feisty. He wanted to hit something. What he really wanted to do was rant and scream, but he knew that would only make him feel worse.

Unfortunately for him, he had Derek-duty that night. He was not looking forward to being berated and physically teased all night, but he would go through it. For his friends and for Derek.

The night started off in much the same way it usually did; Derek latching onto Stiles as soon as the curse kicked in, Stiles steering them to the couch so he could at least be comfortable, Derek finding just the right weak spot that would make Stiles want to scream.

Tonight, Derek found a topic he’d never touched on before. Stiles’ vow of silence.

“You’re not talking to me tonight?” Stiles mentally rolled his eyes. He’d not talked in three weeks.

“Hmm. You don’t open your mouth for just anyone do you? What’s it take? I know you opened it for Heather. I know you’d open it for Lydia if she ever lowered her standards for you- you’re just begging for it.”

This wasn’t news to him. Derek had said similar things in the past.

“But they aren’t what you’re looking for is it?” Derek smiled again, slowly, staring holes through Stiles’ head.

“No, I think that mouth needs more than pussy. It prefers cock, doesn’t it, Stiles? It needs a nice, big cock pushing open those lips. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, cock-slut?”

Stiles swallowed dryly, hoping Scott wasn’t listening in on this conversation from upstairs.

“You’d play coy, just wetting those lips, kissing the tip, but I know you could take it all. You’d let them fuck you hard, swallowing everything down. You want that.”

His heart thumped as he imagined it, and didn’t notice how is hand found Derek’s thigh and grabbed a fistful of jean material.

“Oh, you do want that,” Derek said, gleeful. “But who would give it you? Scott would be too gentle. He wouldn’t want to see you hurt and struggle, even though that’s what you really wanted. Isaac wouldn’t even move, he’d be too amazed that anyone was touching his cock.”

Stiles recoiled at the thought of being intimate with Isaac at all.

“Oh, I know. I know who would give it to you hard. Imagine this, Stiles.” Derek leaned in, mouth going right to Stiles’ ear, one arm going behind him on the couch, the other touching his hip. Stiles stiffened, hating his body for how it was reacting to this treatment.

“Imagine this. One morning before school, you realize you left your phone over here the previous night. You’re annoyed, but you need your phone, so you drive over here, angry at yourself for being so forgetful. You think I’m gonna be here, but I’m not. The door is locked. You pound on it, hoping I’m home, hoping I’ll come to the door. You hear the click of the lock and the door slides open and you’re so relieved. Until you see that Peter is standing there, looking you up and down, like you’re a piece of meat. He knows you’re not speaking, but that doesn’t deter him from asking questions. He lets you come in and you find your phone straight away. You try to leave, offering him a smile, but he stops you, putting an arm out in front of the door.

“‘I think you owe me for waking me up so early, Stiles,’ he says, and he closes the door. He grabs you by the neck and forces you down. You’re on your knees and wondering what’s going to happen. Is he going to kill you? Bite you? How are you going to escape?

“But then Peter lets go of you and you bob forward, unsteady, and you watch as he unzips his jeans. He’s not wearing anything underneath, and his cock falls out. ‘Suck it,’ he says. You’re confused and horrified, and you don’t do anything, so he grabs your hair and pushes your face against him.”

Stiles slouched down, spreading his legs wide, panting. Derek’s words flowed over him, one sentence leading into the next and he can see it, he can feel it, he’s there. Peter is in front of him and he hates what he’s about to do.

“You open just a little, flicking your tongue out to taste, and he’s filling out. He doesn’t have the patience for your exploration, so he pushes inside, filling your mouth immediately. You suck in a breath, you’re surprised. You’re surprised by how natural it feels, how good he tastes, and your mouth fills with saliva, tongue exploring, lips wrapping around him. You bob your head a little, feeling the pull of his fist in your hair, the heaviness of his cock, and you realize you’re hard. You don’t do anything about it though, shame filling your insides, but you keep sucking, tiny little movements up and down his cock.

“Peter is staring down at you; you can feel his eyes, but you don’t look, you don’t want him to see how much you’re enjoying this. He pulls you back, rubbing the tip over your lips, back and forth, and you let him, eyes falling shut. He pushes in again, but this time he holds you still. His hips pick up a rhythm, pushing forward further each time. You must look totally degraded; hair a mess, spit running down your chin, cheeks red with heat. How will you go to school today looking like this? Will everyone know?

“He keeps pushing in and out, going further down your throat and you instinctively swallow. You can tell Peter likes that so you do it again. Peter groans and grabs your head with both hands and starts fucking your mouth like he’s wanted to this whole time, like you’ve wanted him to.”

Stiles’ head fell back, throat exposed to Derek. He trailed a single finger from Stiles’ ear to the dip of his collarbone, leaving tingles in its wake. The hand on his hip had been stroking slowly, finding flesh under Stiles’ shirt, and as Derek continued to speak, the hand moved to his stomach, pressing lightly.

He was so hot; overheated and panting, vibrating from pent up energy. His dick strained against his jeans and he clenched his fists, forcing himself to not touch.

“You can’t take the pressure anymore, so you get your own prick out, and you jack yourself off. You squeeze your eyes shut, and then Peter comes, filling your mouth, but you weren’t ready. You start to choke, you try to back off, but Peter holds you there and he’s so much stronger than you and now you can’t breathe, but your hand is still moving and you come hard, right there with Peter’s cock in your mouth and come spilling down your front.”

With Derek’s final sentence, claws barely pricked the tender skin of his stomach- but that was all it took. His body arched, muscles clenched, and he came in his pants.

Awareness washed over him in a terrible instant, as if he’d been dunked into an icy pond. Stiles panicked. He bolted, rushing to the bathroom and locking himself in. He could hear Derek begin to yell, shouting at Stiles that he wasn’t finished with him, but Stiles couldn’t do anything, he was too busy hyperventilating.

Repetitive thoughts and feelings of shame, guilt, humiliation, and dread swirled through his head and he shook, curling into himself. How could he have let that happen? _Why_ did he let that happen? He’d used Derek to get off- oh god, how could he ever look Derek in the face again… His thoughts only spiraled further and further down, echoing self-loathing and hatred, words and emotions bouncing back and forth to the front of his mind, and he felt trapped.

Scott came in some time later, breaking the lock, and sat on the floor by Stiles, bumping shoulders with him, and let him be.

He slowly reigned in his breathing, counted his fingers, and forced the destructive thoughts to the back of his mind. He was wrecked. He felt decidedly gross emotionally and physically. He longed for a shower.

A shower wouldn’t scrub the images from his mind, though.

Stiles stared at his hands, confused.

“Allison’s with him,” Scott said without prompting.

Stiles covered his face and exhaled shakily.

“It’s okay bud,” Scott said, rubbing him on the back. “If you… don’t feel like you can do this anymore, it’s okay. We’ll figure something out.”

Stiles whipped his head around to look at Scott. How could he possibly explain that was the last thing he wanted? He wouldn't leave Scott to carry the burden on his own, not when he could help. He would have to try harder. Be more vigilant. Stronger. He desperately wanted to shake his head, but he could only frown and purse his lips in protest.

Scott backtracked. “Okay, or not, I just know it’s hard." He glanced down at Stiles' lap. "Uhm… I’ll let you… clean up.”

He felt his face heat as he watched Scott leave and quietly close the door. Nothing, he thought, nothing in the world could be more humiliating than this.

Stiles grimaced, not relishing the thought of going commando.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warnings: mentions of child/sexual abuse, dirty talk, imagined non-con situation between Peter/Stiles, humiliation, panic attack.


	7. Twice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: dubious consent, angst angst angst.

Christmas was a quiet affair. He and his dad exchanged gifts, drank hot cocoa, watched _A Christmas Story_ , and then Stiles spent his evening at Derek’s. Everyone showed up, and they put in a movie to drown out Derek’s ranting.

Stiles couldn’t say he got over the shame and embarrassment he felt every time Derek spoke to him, but he did an excellent job of ignoring it. He avoided Derek during the day. He didn’t think he could handle looking into Derek’s eyes when they were rational and fully aware of what Stiles had done.

It didn’t help matters that in the privacy of his own room, the embarrassment took a backseat while he beat off to reimagining the scene Derek had described. The floodgates had opened, and now Stiles' fantasies featured Peter or Derek, or Peter and Derek, and of course, himself, always being taken by them. All of it was fairly tame, he thought, but Stiles was still amazed at his creativity.

Beyond the imagery, Stiles got caught up in sense memory. Sometimes remembering only the tiny pinprick of Derek’s nails on the sensitive flesh of his stomach set him off.

He tried not to over think it, but he knew- it was fucked up.

Derek was inescapable at night. Stiles refused to abandon him and force Scott to take on the full burden of looking after him, but he had no way to communicate that he needed supervision as well. He wanted to be better, stronger, but god, Derek and his fucking voice…

It was like Stiles had a button, and Derek found that button and pushed it every chance he got. Stiles refused to react the same way as the first time, but Derek never let up. He kept pushing and pushing and pushing, until finally, a week after the second full moon had passed, Stiles pushed back.

Allison was in the kitchen of the loft, listening to the radio, baking and reading while Stiles dealt with Derek. Today Derek was stuck on the subject of Stiles’ inadequacy. He expounded at length on the depth and width of Stiles’ failings, beginning with the fact that he was born a boy and not a girl, like his mom had hoped and prayed for, and ending with the thought that Stiles was so trigger happy that he didn’t even need a cock to get him off, and wouldn’t know what to do with one if it was right in front of his face.

“You’d stare at it, wondering, ‘what in good heavens is that supposed to do?’ You’d never lose your v-card because you couldn’t find where the stick went in the hole. Is that why you’re still a virgin, Stiles? Because you couldn’t figure out the mechanics of it?”

Stiles seethed, face reddening. He bit his tongue and folded his arms across his chest.

“Are you technically still a virgin? You did _orgasm_ -” he rolled the word in his mouth like candy, “in my presence.” Derek slithered closer. “Was it good for you, Stiles? Getting off to my voice? What turned you on more; imagining Peter’s dick in your mouth, or _me_ , forcing you to imagine it?”

Stiles clenched his fists.

“Maybe I should call Peter and have him pull out his dick for real. Make you suck on it right here in front of me. I bet you’d love that, you filthy, dirty, cock-hungry-”

Stiles punched him in the face.

Derek’s head turned back slowly, stunned. Stiles’ heart tripped over itself trying to escape his chest and his hand throbbed, but he couldn’t stop watching Derek’s eyes. They glittered and glowed.

“I forgot. You like it rough,” Derek said, licking his lips. Stiles saw red staining his teeth- he must have cut the inside of his cheek.

Good.

“No, I know what you want, Stiles. You don’t want to be taken. You want to _take_.”

Stiles breathed heavily, shifting to kneel on the couch facing Derek in a defensive stance. Derek mirrored him, sitting back on his heels.

“You wanna take my mouth, you wanna stuff my face, make me shut up, make me choke, don’t you? Would I choke on you, Stiles? How big is that cock anyway? Enough to fill my mouth?”

Stiles’ hand ached and his jeans grew tight.

“You’re thinking about it. Holding my throat, prying my lips open with your thumb. How would you take me, you sick fuck? Push my back to a wall, keep me there as you fucked my face?”

Derek’s eyes flicked down to the bulge in Stiles’ pants. His right hand reached out, fingertips tucking into the waistband, tugging slightly.

“Show it off, Stiles, I know you want to. You love knowing this is _wrong_ , that I’m wrong, that you could choke me, no problem.” Derek nodded toward the kitchen door. “You love knowing Allison is in the other room, that she could walk in at any moment, that she’d see your cock hanging out. You love it, you pervert. Open it up, show me.”

Stiles’ hands moved without his permission. He knew Derek was doing this for a reason. He knew the curse purposefully tried to hit you where it hurt the worst. He knew he would hate himself after this. He knew _Derek_ would hate him.

He opened his jeans.

He pulled out his rapidly-filling dick and stroked it twice before letting his hands drop.

Derek’s eyes glowed bright, roving over his entire body. His hand pushed Stiles' shirt up, revealing his stomach.

“You’re proud of it aren’t you?” Derek smirked. “Look at you preen, like a fucking peacock. What good is a big dick if you’re not man enough to do anything with it?”

Stiles was barely listening at this point. He was hard and leaking and Derek’s hand was inches away from it, hot on his stomach.

“What would you do Stiles?” Derek’s eyes searched his, bright and dancing. “You don’t know, do you? I’ll tell you.”

Derek moved closer, going up on his knees, his face just above Stiles' so he had to look up to see into his eyes. Derek’s left hand grabbed his shirt, pushing it up further; the right one grasped his hip, thumb stroking the dip there. Stiles was dizzy with arousal. He stared up at Derek, mouth open, breath coming in tiny huffs.

“You’d get it out and stroke it, staring at my mouth.”

His hand stroked as his gaze dropped to Derek’s lips.

“You’d tease the head, too lightly to feel good, imagining my tongue was circling it.”

Stiles’ hand matched Derek’s words, watching Derek’s tongue flick as he spoke.

“Then you’d finally push it between my lips, feeling the drag…”

Derek went on, and Stiles imagined it all. It was easy with Derek’s face right there, so close. His smell was all around him; he could feel his body heat, and his hands- oh god, Derek’s hands- thumbs stroking over his skin, one touching his nipple, the other infuriatingly close to his junk, sending tingles over his balls and up his spine. No one had ever touched him like this. The contrast between his gentle hands and the insults spewing out of his mouth was so sharp Stiles felt dizzy and confused. He didn’t know if anything about this was real- was Derek in there somewhere, or was this all the curse?

Derek’s voice got lower and rougher and all thought processes derailed as Derek’s claws dug in at his hip.

Stiles had closed his eyes at some point but shot open when Derek flicked his tongue over his earlobe. Stiles bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut as he came, hand pumping half-heartedly.

Derek was still speaking, but Stiles couldn’t hear it over his own inner monologue.

_Shit. Shit. Double shit._

_Oh god._

_Shit._

He focused on what to do next. No sense in dwelling on what had just happened.

_Oh god, that really happened, didn't it? Shit._

Focus.

His come was all over Derek’s shirt. He grabbed Derek’s hand and pushed off the couch, knees protesting and thighs aching. He glanced at the kitchen- nope, Allison was not standing there in horror, we’re good- and pushed Derek into the bathroom, pulling off his spunk-covered shirt. Then he grabbed a warm washcloth and cleaned himself off and pissed while he was there. Derek kept talking, but Stiles was still tuning him out.

Stiles led him upstairs and got him a new shirt.

“...wanted you, if you’re that selfish, you just take. Is that why you don’t have a girlfriend? Can’t return the favor?”

Stiles froze. What? What the actual fuck was Derek talking about?

Derek rambled on about how Stiles was a selfish lover, only out to get off. Stiles stared at Derek’s snarling face in disbelief. Was this Derek talking- did Derek really want Stiles to return the favor? Or had the curse dug up something in Stiles’ subconscious, that if Stiles acted on he’d feel a thousand times worse about himself than he already did?

It was all so convoluted. No, he was sure that Derek didn't seriously want Stiles to return the favor. Actually, he was sure Derek didn't want him at all.

Stiles thought of Derek’s gentle hands… but gentleness could easily be read as hesitancy or resistance. God, why was he analyzing this? Derek would never want him like that, this was all on him. He was the aggressor in this situation.

On one hand, he was getting off, essentially, to Derek’s voice. He was using him while under the influence of a spell that he couldn’t control in the least. On the other hand, he was taking a vow of silence for the dude so he’d not have to live with it for the rest of his life. He had a month and a half left of silence and self-control, so getting a couple orgasms seemed like a fair trade.

The only issue was Derek never said it was okay. The first time- that was a mistake. But this time? Stiles knew exactly what was happening and didn’t stop it. He could have walked away, could’ve made Allison take over, hell- he probably could’ve kept punching Derek in the face! That would’ve been better than staring lustfully into Derek’s tired eyes, eating up every filthy word that fell from his mouth.

His stomach roiled with guilt. He felt utterly sick with himself. Who was he more like- Kate Argent or Jennifer Blake? He'd become just like them, using Derek Hale as a sexual object they could manipulate. No matter his original intent of saving Derek, he was officially using sex as a power play.

He grit his teeth and swallowed back bile.

He made Derek put on a shirt, then led him downstairs. He stood in the kitchen doorway until Allison looked up. She understood immediately. They switched places and he sat down at the table, head in his hands, and was glad the list of acceptable actions included crying.

.

“Stiles, can you come down here?” his dad called.

He forced himself out of bed where he’d been moping for the past hour and went downstairs.

“Hey kid. Come sit down.”

Stiles sat at the kitchen table, taking in the array of paperwork spread across it. His dad sighed.

“Turns out,” he began slowly, “that the vic has decided not to testify. Apparently she is engaged to the defendant, and won’t speak out against him. God knows why, he damn near killed her. I’m sure he _wanted_ to kill her and that’s why he left her for dead and high tailed it outta there...” He sighed again and motioned to Stiles. “Anyway, they want you to testify. They want to try and get him on attempted homicide against you as well. The trial is next week.”

That wouldn’t work. He still had a month left before he could speak.

“I know you are doing this… thing,” he waved his hand around, “but I thought maybe I could change your mind. This man is very dangerous, domestically violent, obviously manipulative if he convinced the vic not to testify, he almost _killed_ you, and he deserves as much time behind bars as we can get sentenced. Don’t you agree?”

Stiles frowned and looked away.

“I’m not saying your testimony is make or break, but it’d help. It’d help a lot. You’re the only eye witness.”

Stiles crossed his arms and worked his jaw.

“Think about it. That’s all I ask. Just think about it.”

.

“Hey,” Scott greeted him as he ushered him into the loft. “Just a heads-up, Derek slept all day, so tonight might be rough.”

Stiles could hear the shower. He and Scott went into the kitchen and Stiles popped a frozen pizza in the oven and Scott poured drinks.

“He stayed up for almost 3 days and then today I guess he couldn’t fight it. I checked on him to make sure he was still breathing a few times." Scott sighed. "This is getting ridiculous. I don’t know how much longer he can go like this.”

Stiles frowned, noticing the tiredness in Scott’s eyes and the slump in his shoulders. Derek was a major concern, but Scott’s health mattered too.

Stiles reached out and lightly grasped Scott’s arm. Scott startled, but quickly returned the smile Stiles shot him.

“I know, I just hope Deaton finds a cure soon. He’s been working really hard to find anything remotely like what he has, but he’s not coming up with anything.”

Stiles felt his smile falter and his stomach twist in guilt.

Derek padded into the kitchen, clothed, but with dripping hair. He smelled amazing. He poured himself a drink and joined them at the table.

“I saw the armoire,” Derek said.

“Yeah. Hope it helps.”

Stiles chewed on his lip, then his tongue, then played with the piercing.

“When did you get your tongue pierced?” Derek asked, eyes narrowing.

“Oh, he did that like… a month ago?” Scott replied.

Derek frowned. “Why?”

“I think so he wouldn’t, you know. So it’d be harder to talk.” Stiles smiled at Scott.

“Oh. Why are you not talking again?” Derek asked, eyes still fixated on Stiles’ mouth.

“You know he can’t answer you right?”

Derek’s eyes snapped to Scott. “That’s better than ignoring him. You have a lot of experience with that don’t you, Scott? How many times have you forgotten about your best friend? What about the time you left him in the pool for two hours with a paralyzed werewolf while a lizard creature stalked them and you had a grand old time with your girlfriend? How about the time-”

Stiles and Scott shared a knowing look and Stiles grabbed Derek’s arm, steering him towards the couch.

.

Scott was right. It was a bad night. They were up until 5 am when Derek finally collapsed. Stiles and Scott didn’t even contemplate going home; they fell asleep on Derek’s bed and slept until the sun was high in the sky.

Stiles woke grudgingly, back protesting as he rolled out of bed. Scott had apparently already left, and the loft was clean, free of the scattered splinters of the armoire. He stared at the floor blearily, smiling when he smelled brewing coffee.

He stumbled to the kitchen and poured himself a cup, not noticing the person sitting at the table.

“Rough night?”

Stiles jumped, splashing hot coffee all over his hand, and turned in surprise. He bit back his automatic response of ‘Fuck!’

Peter laughed. “Jumpy this morning.”

Stiles scowled. He cleaned off his hand and refilled his cup. He leaned against the counter and blew across the surface of his coffee, staring daggers at Peter.

“Nothing to say?” Peter leaned back in his chair, taking a sip from his own cup.

Stiles hadn’t seen Peter in months, and he assumed he didn’t know about his vow of silence.

“Well, you are obviously upset with me, but I’ve no idea why.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, you missed me, is that it?” Peter smiled. “I had a work errand to run, I told Derek all about it. I assumed you all had this handled. You didn’t need me.”

Stiles grit his teeth. He knocked back his last swallow and set the cup in the sink.

“I’ll walk you out.”

Peter followed him to the door, unlocking it for him. Just as he was about to step out, Peter threw his arm up, blocking the way. The scene Derek described flashed vividly behind his eyes, and his heart went wild as adrenaline rushed through his bloodstream.

“I just wanted to say… that in case you were unaware, werewolves have an excellent sense of smell.” Peter looked at him meaningfully. “For example-” Peter waved a hand around, “if someone were to be… intimate.”

Stiles’ stomach dropped. He felt trapped, like prey. He hardly breathed.

“A werewolf would smell that even days after the fact. Of course, one wouldn’t have to if the evidence had never been washed.”

Stiles dropped his gaze, fingers twitching against his thigh. Why did Derek not wash his shirt?

Peter smiled, false warmth crinkling his eyes. “Thank you for everything you’re doing for my nephew. I appreciate it. I know he does too.” Peter pushed him out the door and Stiles felt sick.

He really shouldn’t drink coffee on an empty stomach.

.

“Stiles, have you thought any more about testifying?”

Stiles continued eating, not bothering to look up.

“Just wondering. Think about it, kid. This guy stabbed you and stole your Jeep. He’s not a nice guy, and he deserves to be put away.”

Stiles rubbed his eye.

“Just… think about it.”

.

“Stiles. Wait.”

Stiles was about to leave the loft after a long night of hearing Derek yell at the top of his lungs at Allison. He was tired, and cranky, and really wanted to have a nice long nap.

Derek grabbed his arm as he was leaving. He’d woken not long after falling asleep, but his voice was hoarse and he had dark rings under his eyes.

“We should talk.”

Stiles did not want to talk. Stiles could not physically talk anyway, so he didn’t want to talk!

His frustration must have shown because Derek turned serious.

“No, we really need to. I have to tell you something.” He pulled Stiles to the couch, forcing him to sit. Derek paced and then stopped, seeming to gather his thoughts.

“You were right. The amulet does have more than one use.”

Stiles blinked. What brought this conversation on?

“I didn’t tell you the other one because it’s kind of obvious. The amulet absorbs power and sends power. You got it right when you said you didn’t need the words, just the intent. But I think you could make them do more.”

He began pacing again. “When Dave had it, he never used it, and after I found out he passed away, I panicked. I don’t really understand magic, and I’ve never had a use for it beyond these amulets, but I knew I needed it back. You thought I was scared, and I was, but I didn’t know of what. My mom told me once that they were powerful magical items, to keep them close and warned us not to lose them, but she never said anything specific. But I think I know now.

“I think Janine may have put an enchantment on them. I think that when you used it to contact me the day you were carjacked, it transferred a curse or something and it hit me. So I was thinking, maybe if we destroy them, or use them again maybe it’ll go away. What do you think?”

Stiles covered his eyes with one hand, leaning forward on his elbows. Derek was so close, yet so far away from the truth. Did Stiles want him to know the truth?

“You think I’m wrong.” Derek sounded dejected.

Oh hell.

Stiles hit the number four on his cell phone and waited until Lydia answered, then handed the phone to Derek.

“Hello? … He just handed me the phone. No, no, I’m fine. … We were talking about the curse. I have a theory. He thinks I’m wrong.” He pulled the phone away from his ear.

“She says if that if you want her to tell me the truth to smile at me.”

Stiles made his mouth tug up at the corners.

“He smiled.”

Stiles got up to brew a fresh pot of coffee. He thought he might be here awhile.

.

Once Derek got off the phone, he was expecting Derek to brood a little, maybe get angry, or give him the silent treatment. He did none of those things.

Instead he asked thoughtful questions and pondered aloud as to Stiles’ intentions and thought processes. It was nice being spoken of in a kind, gracious attitude. Stiles watched Derek as he spoke, backlit, with dust motes floating on the morning sunlight behind him.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone after?” Derek asked, almost to himself. His eyes narrowed in contemplation. “Did you feel guilty about it?”

Stiles stared, frowning.

“I understand guilt. But you don’t have to be a martyr. I think it would have been easier on everyone if they knew what you were doing. Do you know how weird it’s been, not having you talk all the time? It’s like you’re not even here. The most I get out of you is when you’re about to -- " Derek pressed his hand to his mouth.

Stiles stared wide-eyed at the floor, heart in his throat.

Derek was going to say 'when you're about to come.'

They’d never discussed it. Derek had completely ignored the invisible boundary Stiles had kept clear of and jumped straight over it.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I don’t. I shouldn’t have said that. God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I haven’t apologized before now, I feel horrible about it.” Stiles’ eyes slowly slid over to Derek. He had his head in his hands. “I don’t know how you can forgive me or even be in the same room with me. I fucking force myself on you and you just clean me up! How the hell do you do that?”

Wait, Derek thought he was forcing himself on Stiles? What?

“But I am really sorry,” Derek continued, looking up at Stiles imploringly. “I said… terrible things to you and you just-- _sit_ there and take it because you can’t say no! I can’t believe you’re doing this for me and I took advantage of you. I don't know how you do it night after night... You're a much better person than I am. If our roles were reversed I would have killed you a long time ago."

Stiles doubted that... A little.

"Why are you doing this for me? We’re… we’re barely even friends. I don’t understand why you would do this…” Derek held his head in his hands and spoke to himself, calling himself undeserving and worthy of whatever punishment came to him and that Stiles should end the vow.

And there it was- the self-loathing, fashionably late. Derek was very melodramatic when he was tired, Stiles thought.

Derek kept speaking, but Stiles wanted to shut him up. How could he communicate what Stiles thought was happening- that _Stiles_ was actually taking advantage of _him_? That Stiles saw Derek as pack, as a weird sort of family member, and he’d do it for any of them? That he knew Derek could never _deserve_ something like this? Maybe he couldn’t explain it, but he could show Derek all was right between them.

He moved over to Derek’s chair, sunk down on his knees in front of him and waited until Derek looked at him. His shadowed eyes were anguished, mouth pulled into a small frown, and Stiles had a moment where the only thought in his mind was _he’s beautiful._

He took Derek’s head in his hands and leaned forward, smacking a kiss on his forehead. He pulled back and smiled into Derek’s face. He waited, but Derek’s face only crumpled more.

“I have no idea what I did to deserve your forgiveness. Or your help.” His eyebrows raised in the middle as he shook his head. “You’re fucking crazy.”

Stiles laughed, for the first time in months.


	8. Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still reeling from last night's episode. Don't worry, no warnings for this chapter except excessive fluff. Have some happy this morning.

Stiles didn’t go to the trial. It had been pushed back a few weeks, but it still wasn’t late enough for Stiles to testify. His dad put on his one good suit and tried to coax Stiles into something suitable for court, but Stiles refused to budge. He knew if he went he would want to speak; he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. His dad finally gave up, throwing his hands in the air and slamming the door on the way out.  


Stiles decided to skip school that day. He deserved a mental health day, he thought. He’d attended every day since choosing to be mute. If they failed him, at least it wouldn’t be based on attendance. He headed over to Derek’s to see if anything needed cleaning before nightfall. Scott or Isaac usually came over after school, and he thought it’d be nice to give them an afternoon off.  


He trudged up the stairs thinking about the trial. He hoped the guy would be sentenced. You couldn’t get away with stabbing two people and stealing a car and evading police, it wasn’t possible. Stiles was hopeful that even without his testimony the guy would be put away for a long time.  


The door to the loft was unlocked. He let himself in, and felt the need to be as quiet as possible. He snuck around, but didn’t see anyone. He guessed Derek was either out or upstairs sleeping. Peter had been around more often, but he wasn’t here this morning.  


Stiles went about piling the shredded remains of a bed frame in the corner by the door and swept, then made himself comfortable. He flopped on the couch and put a movie on at a low volume and cracked open a book he’d left there last week.  


He lost himself in the story, unconsciously picking at his lip and wiggling his toes against the couch cushions. Around eleven, he snapped out of it when a stumbling Derek crossed the room in only his black underwear. He went into the bathroom and shut the door without even opening his eyes.  


Stiles smiled to himself and went back to his book. Ten minutes later, Derek emerged, towel slung around his waist and walked back up the stairs, not glancing at Stiles once.  


Stiles snorted, watching the muscles in Derek’s back move under the triskelion tattoo. When Derek came back down, he was fully dressed, and headed straight to the kitchen. Not long after, Stiles smelled coffee brewing and heard bacon sizzling. His stomach growled. He marked his place in his book and went to the kitchen, watching Derek cook from the doorway.  


He had a hand on his hip, a spatula in the other, and he was humming along to the radio on the counter. Stiles knew this might be a weird thing to think about someone while they were cooking, but Derek looked gracefully competent, and damn if that wasn't a turn on. Stiles could easily see him as a chef, tackling multiple dishes at the same time, cute little frown on his face all the while. Derek cracked a few eggs and stirred them in the leftover bacon grease. Mmm, Stiles thought, Derek knew how to do it right.  


Stiles' stomach must have made some sort of noise, because Derek did a double-take and shouted, “Holy shit!” and clutched his chest.  


Stiles laughed. So hard. Derek’s face was scowly and betrayed and it only made him laugh harder.  


“Fuck you. How long have you been standing there? Why aren’t you at school?”  


Stiles straightened, blowing out a long breath and wiping the tears from under his eyes, and just smiled.  


Derek shook his head. “You’re a jerk.”  


Stiles wished he could have taken a picture of Derek’s face. It was priceless; he didn’t think he’d ever be able to sneak up on a werewolf ever again. Stiles chuckled to himself and poured a cup of coffee.  


“Oh yeah, come in my house unannounced, scare me, and drink my coffee. You want some of my eggs too, while you’re at it?”  


Stiles stole two pieces of bacon and smiled, walking quickly back to living room before Derek could make a sound of protest.  


.  


Stiles didn’t know what Derek did all day. He knew sometimes he just slept, but that certainly wasn’t the usual. So he wasn’t sure if today was like normal for him, or if he was just humoring Stiles.  


Derek ate on the couch, watching the movie that he’d restarted, and Stiles lounged across the other end, resuming his reading. He wiggled his toes under Derek’s thigh, and Derek shot him a look which Stiles pretended not to see.  


Since their heart-to-heart, Stiles had felt infinitely more relaxed around Derek. Everyone knew about the curse now as well as Stiles’ efforts to break it. There was less edge to everyone’s interactions now that they were on the same page.  


Stiles felt Derek shift and looked to see what he was doing. He pulled out the book- the maroon curse book. Stiles sat up, interested.  


Derek opened the front cover reading the inscription there.  


“Lydia told me she got his book from an estate sale in England. I just wonder what ‘L.M.’ was doing with a book like this in the first place.”  


Stiles was more curious about how Janine had found the curse at all.  


Derek moved through the pages and read aloud the curses he found interesting or horrifying. Stiles resumed his position, one foot tucking under Derek’s thigh.  


A while later, Stiles noticed Derek’s hand on the top of his foot. It was moving up and down, occasionally brushing up under his jeans and over the bare skin of his ankle. Stiles’ eyes slid shut in simple pleasure, and he moved to give Derek more access. Derek’s thumb pressed against his arch, gently, then again with more force. Stiles’ knees fell open and he dropped his book onto his chest, giving up the pretense.  


Derek rubbed and stroked, using both hands now, and occasionally one would slip up higher, rubbing his calf muscle. Stiles relaxed into it, sighing happily to himself. Derek’s hands were very nice. Derek handled his other leg, moving it so he could work on that foot as well.  


Tingles spread, going up his legs and tickling the nerves in his lower back. Stiles suddenly felt very vulnerable. He slowly moved his knees closer together and his book down to his lap. He didn’t want Derek to notice how much he was enjoying himself. He sunk into it again and he could feel his face heating as he became more aroused. Derek’s hands dug deeper, pressed harder, and Stiles bit back a groan.  


“If you want me to stop, you should move,” Derek said, hands stilling.  


Stiles stiffened, realizing Derek must know; he could probably smell him. His throat clicked as he swallowed dryly, suddenly unsure. His body decided his next move without his input; his foot grazing over an unmistakable hardness in Derek’s lap. He stroked over it again, and watched Derek’s face- brow furrowing, mouth falling open- and felt Derek’s hands spasm. He stroked one more time and Derek made a choked-off noise in the back of his throat.  


Stiles was overly aware of every inch of his skin, blood rushing to the surface, tension coiling in his spine. Just the thought that Derek was as affected as he made his heart go crazy and breath turn harsh and erratic.  


Derek’s hands began moving again, going further and further under his jeans, raking his nails down Stiles’ calf muscle, fingertips brushing lightly against the skin behind his knee. Stiles moved the book off his lap and opened his jeans, unabashedly pulling out his dick before he could think too hard about it.  


Derek’s heavy-lidded eyes snapped to the open vee of Stiles’ jeans immediately, and he breathed deeply through his nose, nostrils flaring. Stiles nudged more insistently at Derek’s thigh, tapping it with his toes. Derek got the hint and opened his pants, breathing heavier with every second.  


Stiles’ ears and cheeks were burning; he was on fire. He moved his leg around, tucking his foot behind Derek’s back so he could see. Derek’s hand was on himself, but he looked thick, thick and uncut. Stiles held out his unoccupied hand towards Derek, inviting him to move. Derek stared at it for second, then levered himself up and over, in one predatory move.  


Derek’s face was right there. They panted, staring at each other, each working their own cocks. Stiles glanced down and tentatively touched. Derek exhaled sharply as if he’d been punched in the stomach, closed his eyes, and took away his own hand. Stiles stroked experimentally, thumbing the head, smearing precome. Derek sounded like he was about to hyperventilate. Stiles took his hand away and pushed his pants down his thighs and did the same to Derek, then grabbed his hips and urged him down. Derek lowered his hips and slowly, haltingly moved against him.  


Stiles was torn between throwing his head back in pleasure and staring at the place where he and Derek were touching. They slid against each other, side by side, and Derek pressed down while Stiles pressed up.  


Stiles was overheated and his heart was going wild. They were having sex. Stiles was about to have mutual orgasms with another human- well, wereperson. Specifically, Derek Hale. And not the vindictive cursed version of Derek, no, the real, kind, slightly grumpy version. Just the thought was enough to make him too close to the edge. He licked his lips and watched as Derek’s eyes darkened. Stiles suddenly realized they hadn’t kissed.  


Stiles slid a hand around the back of Derek’s neck and pulled his face down. They breathed against each other’s mouths and Stiles nipped at Derek’s upper lip. Derek’s nostrils flared and eyes began to glow, and then Stiles was being kissed.  


Derek was obviously a starved man. He devoured Stiles; tongue and lips aggressively claiming. Stiles had no idea what was going on with the rest of his body, he was too focused on keeping up with Derek’s mouth.  


Seeming to have his fill, Derek pulled back slightly. Stiles gasped, feeling Derek’s hand wrap around them both and pull. They moved in sync, pushing up into Derek’s hand, and Derek kissed him again. This time it was deep and slow and lingering, Derek sucking on his bottom lip, using just the slightest scrape of teeth. Stiles was pulled under, lost in waves of sensation. He kissed Derek back, deeply, trying to communicate everything he was unable to say, and Derek returned it, pressing against him harder, nose smashing against his cheek and stubble burning his chin.  


Liquid fire raced through his veins and he arched up, biting Derek’s lip, and came in a heady rush. Derek came soon after, face buried in Stiles’ neck. He groaned for a long few seconds, and then collapsed on top of Stiles.  


He floated, body calming, limbs becoming heavy. Distantly, he was aware of the wetness soaking through his shirt, but he was more interested in the warmth Derek's body provided. Stiles had been overheated not even a minute ago, but now he found himself wrapping up in Derek, trying to conserve heat.  


"This is gross," Derek said, but he made no move to get up. Stiles closed his eyes and snuggled in further, his shirt sticking to his skin. Derek sighed, and pulled Stiles’ pants up, then did his own and resumed his position, arms going around Stiles completely. He turned them on their sides and Stiles was happy to be manhandled, going soft and pliable.  


Stiles drifted, relishing in the warmth and contentedness of a satisfying orgasm. He blinked sleepily at Derek and smiled a soft lazy smile. Derek’s eyes darkened, roaming over Stiles’ face.  


“I still don’t know what’s going on in your head… but I know that we still have a while before all this is over, and I wanted you to… I just, I’m really grateful. And I hate what happens every night and I hate the way I act, and I hate that I made you… do things. But I know that since we did... this now, it’s likely that I’ll try again at night. So you probably shouldn’t come here anymore.”  


Stiles frowned.  


“I’m just saying, what if I force myself on you again? It just…” Derek scrunched up his face, “I hate the way you look at me right before. You’re so angry and I can see how much you hate me, but you do it anyway. I hate taking advantage of you. So don’t give me the chance.”  


He didn’t know how to communicate what he wanted. If Stiles was honest with himself, he did enjoy the last time it had happened- Derek staring at him, holding his hip, coaching him to orgasm. And as long as he wasn’t taking advantage of Derek… he’d be okay with it happening again. Actually, it sounded kinda hot.  


Stiles had an idea. He thought more about Derek talking to him and slowly felt his body respond. Derek seemed content at the moment, but Stiles wasn’t finished with their conversation. He reached up and patted Derek’s face to get his attention, then grabbed his chin, forcing his mouth open and closed repeatedly. Derek’s brows drew together.  


“What? Stop that.” Stiles took Derek’s hand and moved it over his clothed erection, then forced his jaw to open again.  


“Stop, what-” Derek felt over his hardness and stared into Stiles’ eyes as Stiles continued to move his chin.   


“You want me to talk?”  


Stiles smiled.  


“You like it when I talk to you… you… you liked it.”  


Stiles toned his smile down to a smirk.  


Derek was struggling- jaw working and nostrils flaring- but he kept stroking along Stiles’ length.  


“But I forced myself on you. How could you like that?”  


Stiles’ brain buzzed with articles and psychologists’ quotes, not to mention all the porn videos, but all he could do was frown, hoping it communicated ‘are you kidding me?’  


Derek blinked, stunned. He kept rubbing Stiles unconsciously, lost in thought. Stiles closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling. He was still sensitive, but the layers of clothing dulled the sensation somewhat.  


“You are so kinky.”  


Stiles opened to his eyes to see Derek smiling uncertainly, and he smiled back. Stiles poked him in the stomach in an attempt to further break down the mood. Derek snorted, amused, then quickly rolled off the couch, pulling Stiles up with him in one swift movement. Stiles held onto Derek’s biceps, dizzy from the headrush.  


“Let’s take a shower.” Derek squeezed his hip and smiled.  


Stiles couldn’t run fast enough.  


.  


Derek’s clothes looked ridiculous on him, but what did he care? He spent the rest of the afternoon lounging with Derek, touching his hands, staring at him openly, and had no plans to leave any time soon. He threw in a load of laundry and joined Derek on the couch. He was glad it was comfortable; it’d become like a second home to him over the last two months.  


Derek had turned quiet, and Stiles let him be. He went back to reading his book, finding his place easily enough after casting it aside earlier and quickly got caught up in the story.  


“I never told Janine the truth.”  


Stiles looked up, confused.  


“About anything. We talked for months and I never told her a single true thing about myself. I even lied about my favorite color. It’s blue, by the way. I told her it was green.”  


Stiles closed his book, fascinated.  


“She was essentially dating a fake person. So it didn’t feel difficult to be that person. It wasn’t hard to propose, because I was acting. It never felt real to me.”  


Stiles wanted to nod along, but instead he moved closer, angling himself towards Derek.  


“And… with Kate… she knew everything about me and she was the fake one.” Derek swallowed, staring down at his hands. “So I felt like I was acting like Kate, and then with you, making you…” He shook his head. “I get that you like it, and that maybe you don’t mind-” Stiles gave him a closed-lipped smile, “-but I feel horrible about it. I feel like a monster. And I can’t do that to you again. And that’s why I’m asking you to stay away.”  


Stiles stared and picked at his lip, thinking. He really wouldn’t mind if it happened again, but if Derek really didn’t want it…  


Stiles gave him a reassuring smile and patted his hand. Derek flipped his hand around and grabbed his, intertwining their fingers. Derek’s thumb rubbed back and forth. Stiles’ heart clenched at the intimacy of it.  


“I’m sorry, I know you like it, but I can’t do that again. I can’t wake up and remember doing it and have no control over it.”  


Stiles smiled again and squeezed his hand.  


“But…” Derek licked his lips, staring down at their connected hands, “I don’t think I’d mind doing it during the day.” Derek glanced up to gauge Stiles’ reaction, and Stiles smiled slowly, then enthusiastically climbed into Derek’s lap, hugging him around the neck. Stiles could feel Derek’s laughter and he pulled back and kissed him, aim off and results messy because of their smiles.  


“I’m glad you like that idea. It’ll probably be easier to get you off if I’m not insulting you every other sentence.”  


That… was probably true. He’d had quite enough of the name calling.  


Derek ran his hands up and down Stiles’ back, content look on his face. Stiles brushed his fingers through the short hairs at Derek’s nape and studied his eyelashes. He wanted to ask so many questions and he wanted to say so many things. Where was all of this tenderness coming from? Stiles wasn't complaining, but there was no doubt it was out of the norm for Derek to be so... sweet. Perhaps he always had been but Stiles had never noticed until he'd had the horrible cursed Derek to compare it with.  


He didn't care whether it was a new development or a trait he'd overlooked, all he cared was that Derek apparently... what? Liked him? He at least liked him enough to share kisses and shower sex and his favorite color and now they were negotiating kinks?  


Was this a relationship now?  


“Scott’s coming up the stairs.” Stiles froze. What were they going to tell Scott?  


“Hey, don’t worry about it. Relax.” Stiles focused on Derek’s eyes, letting his muscles unwind. Derek smiled, eyes flicking to the door. He leaned in, one hand going to Stiles’ ass, and whispered in his ear, “I can’t wait till I can have you here all night to myself,” and squeezed one cheek hard.  


“Oh my god! What- wha-what the hell-” Scott stuttered from the doorway.  


Stiles and Derek leaned forward on each other and laughed.  


“Can you- ah, oh my go-”  


“I think we broke him,” Derek got out between giggles. Stiles turned to look and Scott’s face was confused jumble of amusement and shock. Stiles fell to the side, still laughing, rolling in the joy. He was so high on endorphins, he thought it must be illegal.  


He caught Derek’s eye as their giggles subsided, and his heart felt like it would burst when Derek’s eyes softened, smiling at him in quiet affection.


	9. Open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Panic attack.

The rest of the group had been informed of the final date of Derek’s curse. Lydia took it upon herself to plan a party for the night after and told Derek to go buy alcohol- “I feel like you'll want it.”

Stiles didn’t stay away from Derek entirely; he still came over at night, but left the attending issues to either Scott or Allison. Under the curse, Derek did try a few times to get at Stiles, but his friends always intervened.

He needed no such intervention with Derek during the day. He wasn't sure what Derek had told everyone their status was, but going by Lydia's smug look it was something in the vicinity of 'together.' Honestly, Stiles was still amazed Derek wanted him in any capacity, so much so that he laughed when Isaac had congratulated him, momentarily forgetting that Isaac wasn't joking- that he and Derek really did hook up, they really did spend most afternoons together reading, watching movies, cooking. The only thing they hadn't done was a repeat performance of their first 'real' time, as Derek had referred to it. He'd put a stop to any sexy proceedings, saying that he wanted to know, to hear from Stiles himself that he wanted it, and he wanted to hear during just how badly he wanted it.

Stiles had never jerked off so much in his life.

Stiles was itching to speak again. For a while, he’d gotten into a groove or higher state of being, and not speaking had become second nature. But now, with only a few days left to go, he felt like it was a constant struggle to not say what was on his mind.

He found himself accumulating nervous ticks; fingers drumming over whatever surface was available, knees jiggling any time he sat down, rolling his tongue and playing with the piercing constantly- he knew he was driving Derek crazy but he couldn’t stop himself.

He bit his lip and bounced his leg and watched the days go by as he became more and more anxious.

.

Nightfall came and the moon didn’t shine.

As much as Stiles wanted to believe it had worked, he couldn’t actually know until the following night. Derek didn’t fall under the influence of the curse because of the lack of moonlight, so they let Derek have a night to himself. Stiles went to bed much earlier than usual, but he couldn’t sleep. His mind turned over the last three months, replaying scenarios where he might have failed.

One time, he stubbed his toe on the wall and made a tiny noise in the back of his throat. He didn’t think much of it then as he wasn’t actually communicating with anyone, but could that have counted?

A few times he’d unconsciously picked up a pencil and begun to doodle and proceeded to flip out (silently), but was it considered writing if he’d only drawn some squiggly lines?

He couldn't begin to count the times he'd been overly expressive with his face. Did facial cues count as communicating?

His stomach dropped each time he remembered a potentially disastrous instance and he hugged his pillow tight, unwillingly going over every possible outcome. What if Derek really did stay like this forever? He would have failed, the three months would have been for nothing, and how in the hell would they be able to take care of Derek for the rest of his life? He knew Derek would sooner kill himself than be a burden on someone forever. He’d go into seclusion and let the curse kill him at the very least.

Stiles was caught in a perpetual state of terror. He watched the sky grow light, turning pink, then orange, then yellow, and wondered what he would do with himself if Derek was still under the curse tonight. He would definitely cry. And probably scream.

Actually, if it did work he’d probably do both of those things anyway.

Stiles closed his eyes and finally fell asleep when the sun warmed his face.

.

“Stiles! Come on in, here’s a beer. We’ve got half an hour before moonrise. Are you excited?” Lydia’s eyes sparkled, catching on the twinkle lights strung across the loft. It was dim, but warm and felt comfortable. Stiles smiled at her, determined to stay silent until he knew for sure.

“Come in, Derek’s over there.”

Stiles had no clue who all these people were, but he pushed through the crowd and got a few slaps on the back and nods which Stiles did not return.

“Stiles!” Scott grabbed him and pulled him away from the crush of bodies. Stiles exhaled, letting the tension drop from his shoulders. “Oh, you already got one, cool.” He clinked the necks of their bottles together. “I don’t know why Lydia invited so many people, I thought it was gonna be just us,” Scott shrugged, talking over the noise. Stiles guessed she really wanted to up the celebratory atmosphere, but what would they do if he had failed? What if Derek suddenly went off on everyone? They had to get out of here, somewhere safe.

Stiles grabbed Scott’s arm and pulled him along towards Derek, determined. Derek looked pleased to see him, but Stiles wasted no time, handing him his drink and then grabbing onto his arm as well. He pulled them into a storage room and got out his phone, staring at the clock.

“What… why are we in here?” Scott asked.

Stiles frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. Derek gave him a long look.

“Are you okay?” Derek asked.

Stiles swallowed and looked at the ground, shuffling his feet. He could feel the tension building in his chest and he breathed harshly out of his nose, trying to keep the panic at bay.

“Oh no,” Scott sighed.

“Hey, hey,” Derek set down the drinks and moved in front of Stiles, speaking in a low soft tone. “It’s okay. Don’t worry, it’s okay. Sit down.”

Stiles felt for the wall behind him and slid down, holding his head in his hands, fighting back tears.

“You don’t need to be worried. It’s okay.”

But the thoughts kept running through his head on repeat. _What if I messed up? What if I talked in my sleep? What if you’re not gonna be okay, Derek? How will that be okay?_ He could hardly breathe, his throat was so tight.

Derek’s words drifted to him through the rushing in his ears. “I think it’s gone, Stiles. I don’t feel the pull of it like I normally do. It starts with thoughts, and then I get angry, really angry, like I want revenge, and that lasts for a while before I finally start… you know. I don’t feel like that at all. Hey, look at the time, how much longer is there until moonrise?”

Stiles fumbled for his phone, barely feeling it in his palm, and flashed it at Derek’s face in front of him. Five minutes. Stiles dropped his head again.

“Hey,” Derek said again, much softer and closer, “come here.” Derek pulled on his arms, maneuvering him into Derek’s lap. Stiles glanced around. Scott must have left. God, how out of it was he?

“Come on, we’ll set a timer. We’ll say 6 minutes, and when that timer goes off, we’ll go outside and look at the moon. When I don’t say anything terrible, you have to promise to kiss me and tell me that I was right. Okay?”

Stiles stared at him in wonder with wide eyes while the tension inside him snapped like a taut laundry line. Every emotion fell to the surface- gratitude, guilt, hope, every built up fear and frustration. Tears dropped as Stiles laughed in spite of himself.

If he hadn’t been already, he knew now that he was very much in love with Derek.

He handed over the phone and tucked his head into Derek’s neck. He breathed, feeling the rhythm of Derek’s chest and smelling his clean spicy scent. He slowly relaxed and let his mind calm.

He startled when the alarm went off, his heart rate spiking. Derek squeezed his side then helped him up. He let them out of the loft, hand in hand, and onto the roof.

“There it is.”

Stiles could hardly see it, but it was there. A tiny sliver of moon on the horizon. Stiles stared, waiting. Derek squeezed his hand.

“You are selfish. You only let in a few people, and to hell with everyone else. You’re reckless, and you have no regard for other people’s feelings, and you always think you’re right.”

Stiles turned to stare at Derek, horrified.

“Because you usually are. But this time, I was right.” Derek smiled a slow, smug smile. “Tell me I’m right.”

Stiles took a few quick breaths, chest rising and falling rapidly. “You fucking bastard.”

Derek grinned and pulled Stiles in, kissing him briefly through their smiles. “I still need to hear it, you promised,” Derek said, laughing.

“Yes, you’re fucking right, you stupid masochistic fuck!” Stiles hugged him hard, laughing all the while, feeling his chest expand with giddiness.

“You did it,” Derek whispered into his ear. “You did it. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Stiles felt new tears bubble up, but he only hugged Derek tighter. When they finally separated, Stiles couldn’t stop staring at Derek and grinning. It was over. It was really over.

“I thought you’d have more to say, to be very honest,” Derek said, still smiling.

“I don’t know what to say! I’m just… I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it worked. It’s the stupidest thing, you know? I have to be silent so that you can shut up? Ridiculous.”

Derek laughed again and pulled Stiles against him, arms going around his lower back. “It was pretty ridiculous. It’s ridiculous that you actually did it. Three whole months without speaking?”

Stiles shook his head and shrugged. “Oh, look I can do this now! Oh my god, I need to change my cell phone plan again. Oh god, I have so much homework to do.”

Derek snorted and pulled away, grabbing his hand. “Tomorrow. Let’s have fun tonight.”

Stiles smiled. “Yeah.”

.

Stiles got drunk. And loud. He sang with the music, danced up on Derek, twirled Lydia, and had deep, heart-felt conversations with everyone. This one guy with a backwards baseball cap told him that he admired him for going so long without speaking, and Stiles proceeded to tell him all about Trappist monks and the traditions of silence. He nodded along, eyes wide, until Scott pulled him away.

“Dude, I think I’m gonna go,” Scott said, and Stiles followed his gaze to Kira across the room.

“Okay, see you later.” Stiles patted him on the back, but Scott pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’ve missed you, man,” he said into Stiles’ ear.

Stiles didn’t know what to say, so he squeezed Scott hard, letting him know he understood.

“See ya, have fun tonight,” Stiles said when they parted, bouncing his eyebrows up and down.

Scott grinned. “Yeah, you too.”

Stiles did have fun. The next morning, he had the hangover to prove it.

.

_Hey are you coming over tonight?_

Stiles smiled, eager to be done with this essay so he could get to see Derek.

_yep, just as soon as im done_ he texted back.

_Good, I’ve got something for you._

Stiles smirked. _your dick? aw, you shouldn’t have._

_I’m literally rolling my eyes. What time?_

_does your dick have a bedtime? i don’t know, stop interrupting me and i’ll be there sooner._

Stiles set his phone aside and tried to get back in the groove of writing. His phone buzzed just as he began typing.

_I just want to see you._

His ribs hurt from the sweetness. This was the closest Derek ever got to admitting ‘feelings’ of any kind.

_eff it. im coming now, i’ll do this later._

_:)_

.

Derek unlocked the door and reeled Stiles in, kissing him soundly. Stiles fumbled but eventually found his footing, sliding his hand around the back of Derek’s neck, feeling the soft short hairs there. Derek had one hand on his ass and the other wrapped around his back, bending him backwards. Stiles held on, knees weakening, arousal flooding his system. Stiles lost himself in the kiss, enjoying Derek’s hand massaging his ass and the way his facial hair ignited the nerve endings around his mouth.

Derek pulled away with a nuzzle and one tiny peck on Stiles’ lips. His eyes when they found Stiles’ were dazed and hazy.

“Hi.”

Stiles felt a burble of fondness rise his in chest and he smiled softly. “Hi.”

“You smell good,” Derek said, running his nose along Stiles’ jawline. His eyes closed as his head fell back.

“Yeah,” he breathed as Derek began nibbling on his neck. He was very glad for Derek’s arms around him; he wasn’t sure he was holding his own weight up at all.

“I have a present for you,” Derek murmured.

“Oh yeah. I have been waiting way too long for this present,” Stiles groaned. “Bed, please?”

Derek immediately straightened and huffed, eyes focused. “It’s not my dick, Stiles. Goddamnit.”

Stiles pouted. “Why not? I want it.”

“We’ve talked about that. I want time. Not just an afternoon, I want…” Derek leaned in close, breath ghosting over Stiles’ ear, “... all. night. with you. Okay?”

Stiles shivered and meekly nodded.

Derek leaned back with a smug smile and dug in his pocket. “Don’t take this the wrong way, okay?”

“Uh… okay?”

“Here.” Derek held out a key.

“What’s this for?” Stiles asked, plucking it out of Derek’s fingers.

“It’s to the loft.”

Stiles stared at the key, eyes growing wider. “Uh… so, what would be the wrong way to take this? Just so I’m sure.”

Derek snorted. “I’m not asking you to move in. I just want you to always be able to get in here. You know, if you need to, or whatever…” Derek trailed off, but Stiles heard the unspoken words.

_You’re always welcome here because I want you here._

The intent was there behind it and Stiles felt his throat constricting with emotion. He spent three months not saying anything, unable to express himself, and now that he could he didn’t know what to say.

Derek had gone his whole life telling people to go away, shutting people out because they only hurt him, hurt his family, hurt his pack. And now he was entrusting Stiles with this. Somehow even though he’d not said a thing to Derek the whole time, he’d earned Derek’s trust. Not just the pack’s level of trust; no, he knew he’d earned that when Derek gave him the amulet. This kind of trust was deeper. Derek trusted Stiles with his den, his body, his heart.

He bit his lip, knowing Derek was waiting for some sort of response. He took a deep breath and leaned in, giving Derek a slow, soft, lingering kiss. He pulled back, watching Derek’s eyes flutter open, and gazed deeply into them. With a tiny smile, he said, “Thanks for letting me in.”

Derek smiled back.

“For the record, I would have accepted dick as well.”

Derek rolled his eyes but dragged him to the bedroom anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me as I posted this and commented, it made the experience of my first chaptered fic awesome. Much love to you all, I hope you enjoyed it. :)


End file.
